


Lead You Into The Night

by housebigbangmod (zulu)



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Challenge: house big bang, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-25
Updated: 2009-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zulu/pseuds/housebigbangmod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story was written by <a href="http://ticcyyy.livejournal.com">Ticcy</a>. What's the differential for a woman who says she hates her baby?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ride The Tide On A Boat Made Of Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Very, very big thanks to my betas, ducks_in_a_row and topaz_eyes. Many thanks to bammel and hihoplastic for the hand-holding.
> 
> [](http://house-bigbang.dreamwidth.org/25952.html)  
> by [](http://sadpie.livejournal.com/profile)[**sadpie**](http://sadpie.livejournal.com/)
> 
> [](http://house-bigbang.dreamwidth.org/22722.html)  
>  by [](http://hihoplastic.livejournal.com/profile)[**hihoplastic**](http://hihoplastic.livejournal.com/)

"This better be good," Cuddy sighed as she opened the front door.

House stamped his cane impatiently on the welcome mat and hunched his shoulders against the blistering winter air. "That's no way to greet a guest."

"With the number of times you've invited yourself over these past few months, you've gone past the title of guest and achieved the title of pest." She opened the door wider. "You're letting in all the cold air."

House stepped inside, glad to get out of the cold. As New Jersey settled into late January, the short days of sunlight bled into each other in a blur of snow and frost. Sunset had already descended on Princeton now, the last weak rays of light quickly being smothered by snow clouds looming in the distance.

He lowered his eyes to Cuddy's belly while she closed the door behind him. Eight and a half months pregnant, her stomach protruded at an alarmingly uncomfortable-looking size underneath her dark grey sweater. Not for the first time, House thought himself lucky not to have to be part of the human gender that got lumbered with playing host to human parasites. "You're looking as rotund as ever," he observed as he tugged his scarf off from around his neck.

"And by 'rotund', I take it you mean big and beautiful."

"No. Just rotund."

"I can always count on you to be flattering and supportive," she replied dryly. She turned and waddled down the hall. "Help yourself to a drink if you're thirsty. I'm just getting a few last minute touches done on the baby's room."

He shrugged out of his overcoat and hung it up on the hook. "I'd offer to help, but I'm not going to."

"I wasn't holding my breath."

House glanced around the front hall once Cuddy was out of sight. Her place was littered with all the obvious signs of an impending baby. A dark blue stroller the size of a small SUV was parked just inside the dining room. A playyard still in its box stood next to that. He wandered across to the dining room. The table was covered in an array of unopened baby goods, probably from the baby shower her sister had thrown several weeks back. There were packs of newborn diapers, baby bottles, teething rings, bunny rugs, breast pads, clothes and brightly coloured plush toys--some of which rattled, House noticed--as he picked up a pink elephant and gave it a shake.

He put it back down and turned a large box towards him – a breast pump pack that boasted in big letters, 'Medela Pump In Style Advanced Breastpump Backpack 2008'. The box looked like it hadn't been opened yet, but House didn't need to look inside to know that the pump was not only state-of-the-art, according to the description on the side of the box, but also stylish. Trust Cuddy to want to pump milk only in style, he thought to himself with a wry snort. Over the months, he'd witnessed her place gradually turn into the equivalent of a baby museum. He hadn't intended to witness anything: when he'd agreed to be the sperm donor, he'd intended to remain solely a donor and nothing more. But the few brief visits he initially paid out of curiosity had turned into frequent visits the further Cuddy's pregnancy progressed, until he found himself making a regular habit of showing up unannounced. Just like he had today.

He put the breast pump back on the table and shook himself out of his thoughts. He moved out into the kitchen and fetched himself a glass of orange juice from Cuddy's fridge, as well as an apple from the fruit crisper.

"House," he heard Cuddy calling out in a warning tone. "What're you up to out there? You're being alarmingly quiet."

"Nothing," he called back.

"Doesn't sound like nothing."

"Silence sounds like I'm up to something?"

"Silence means you're definitely up to something. Get your ass in here, where I can keep an eye on you."

He rolled his eyes. He made his way through the house to the baby's room and stopped in the doorway. The room was bright yellow, with alphabet patterns running in a straight consecutive line along all four walls. The crib stood in the corner with the sheets tucked neatly over the mattress. The changing table stood against the opposite wall, stocked with diapers and wipes, towels and tissues. A dark wooden rocking chair sat beside the table. Piles of baby clothes lay folded and stacked on the floor by the chest of drawers, ready to be put away, and stuffed animals and other baby toys were placed in the corner near the window. The room smelled of fresh paint and had a warm, inviting glow to it -- a room that he, thankfully, would never have to set foot in once it was occupied with a seven-pound inhabitant.

Cuddy looked over her shoulder from where she sat cross-legged on the floor, feeding an alphabet pattern curtain onto a curtain rod. "What were you doing out there?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing. Just helping myself to your fridge." He saluted his half-finished orange juice at her. "You're all out of beer."

"Not helping yourself to anything else, I hope. Like my underwear drawer."

"Now why would I do that?"

She cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him, then gestured to the curtains. "You can help me put this up once I'm done here. I can't reach the curtain hooks."

"Why didn't you do annoying things like finishing the decorating sooner?"

"Because I'm still working full-time." She shot him another look. "I'm run off my feet trying to organise everything before I go on maternity leave. I don't get a lot of time to finish the odd jobs that need finishing."

"Could've hired a decorator."

"That wouldn't be anywhere near as fun. I've waited a long time to have this baby. It's the only baby I'm probably going to have. I want to enjoy and make the most of every bit of it, and that includes preparing for it." Cuddy grabbed the other part of the curtain waiting to be slotted onto the rod and held it up. "Here, make yourself useful and help me. I'm getting cramped sitting here like this. My back hurts."

"That's your fault, not mine."

"If you're not going to make yourself useful, you know where the front door is."

"Too cold. Don't want to go back out there."

"In that case..." Cuddy tossed the curtain towards him and it landed in a heap by his feet. "Make yourself useful. Otherwise, why are you here?"

"To annoy you."

"I know you're here to annoy me, but I'd much rather you be useful at the same time."

"But then I wouldn't be annoying."

"Believe me – you never stop being annoying."

House reluctantly stooped for the curtain and stepped around Cuddy. He took a seat on the edge of the rocking chair, set his orange juice and his half eaten apple on the floor, and reached for the curtain rod. "You could've lured Wilson into helping you. Make out you're a damsel in distress. He and his Messiah complex would be your knight in shining armour."

She gave him a dirty look. "Why do you always insist that other people's good qualities are little more than vices?"

"Because they usually are."

"Vices to them, or vices to you?"

"Vice is a vice. Nobody ever does anything without an ulterior reason."

"So, what's your ulterior reason?"

"For what?"

"Being here."

"Sex." He reached for his apple and bit into it with a loud crunch. "And failing that, free food."

Cuddy gestured to her swollen belly. "The sex that resulted in this wasn't enough?"

He eyed her stomach but brushed her question off as he swallowed and returned the apple to the floor. "Beside the point. Why didn't you lure Wilson into helping you?"

"He has helped me."

"When?"

She waved a hand at the crib. "He helped me put that together. He helped me pick it out, too, along with the rest of the furniture in this room."

House frowned. "If you were planning on enlisting him as the paternal do-gooder, why didn't you ask him to be the daddy?"

Cuddy raised her brows at him. "You saying you're the 'daddy' now?"

"No," he replied immediately.

"Thought not." She looked back down to the curtain with a dismissive snort. "And I did ask Wilson... sort of. He wasn't interested."

"So?"

"So?" Cuddy turned her eyes back up to him. "So, I couldn't very well lure him into my bed just to get a sperm sample."

"Why not? It's not like he hasn't been led by the balls before. How do you think the guy married so many times?"

"It wouldn't have been right. I wanted a donor who _wanted_ to donate." She gave him a pointed look.

"Hey, don't look at me. You're the one who asked."

"And you're the one who agreed."

"Free sex. Who'd turn that down?"

"Free sex for almost six months?"

"Saved me a lot of money on hookers."

"Nice to know I was a bargain," Cuddy replied in a dry tone. She settled the curtain in her lap, forgotten for the moment. "But be honest with me: why did you agree?"

"Is this the part where I plead the Fifth?"

"You always plead the Fifth."

"In that case, I plead the Fifth."

"House--"

He shrugged again. He didn't want to discuss it. "Would you rather have had faceless sperm in a cup?"

"Well... no. But why does that matter to you?"

House glanced away. "Kid has a right to know who their dad is."

"That still doesn't explain--"

"You're pregnant, you got what you wanted. Who cares what matters to me."

"I care."

"Well, don't. My role in this ended the moment one of my sperm opened the pod bay doors to one of your eggs."

"If that's where your role ended, then why are you here?"

House stared at her before looking down. He motioned to the curtain. "You want me to put this thing up or not?"

"It wasn't 'free sex', House," Cuddy pressed. "It was practically a relationship."

"Was not."

"You know it was."

"Are you done?" he snapped.

She fixed him with a calculating look that made him feel uneasy, before she returned her attention to the curtain in her lap. As much as he'd joked about finally getting to 'tap that' again, and frequently, he'd hoped she'd magically fall pregnant after the first try. But between issues of his being unable to maintain an erection at times, thanks to the Vicodin, and Cuddy simply not falling pregnant on demand, sex became a regular pattern in their lives. By the two-month mark, House had wondered what he'd gotten himself into, and by the three-month mark he had begun to think agreeing to supply Cuddy with the raw material for a baby was an all-out bad decision.

When Cuddy announced that she was pregnant, House abruptly cut himself off from her because she no longer needed him. He'd thought he'd be relieved that it was finished. Instead, he'd felt empty, like his life was missing something – someone – important. For the few months that followed, he'd downright resented Cuddy for that. But now he was here, sitting in her kid's bedroom and helping her thread alphabet curtains onto a curtain rod as though those six months of weirdness between them hadn't happened.

"You finished?"

House looked up at Cuddy. She'd finished threading the curtain onto the rod and was now waiting for him to finish his end, which he hadn't even started.

"Hurry up," she scolded. She leaned across for his orange juice. "I want to get this finished so I can put some dinner on. I'm starving."

"Why don't you eat first?"

She paused to take a long gulp. "Because I'm almost done. I don't want to stop now. I don't have time to stop. This kid may come a little earlier than expected and I don't want to risk leaving anything unprepared." She drained the last of the juice. "Though, being it's half your genes, it'll probably be late, just like you're late for everything."

"Hey. At least I'm fashionable about it." He began tugging the curtain onto the rod. All the while, Cuddy sat and watched him, now munching on his apple. "Done," he announced a few minutes later.

"Good." She pointed at the brackets on the window where the rod was supposed to go. "Put it up there, patterns facing towards me."

House got to his feet while Cuddy struggled to hers, and he arched up to hook the rod in place. After a couple of tries and a few frustrated grunts, he got it secured and he stepped back with a puff of air. "There."

"Perfect," she said, clasping her hands together at her chest with a big smile. She studied the curtains and then let out a blissful sigh, her smile broadening and brightening into one of sudden excitement. "Everything is going to be perfect."

"Shall I note that down as famous last words?" he asked dryly.

"Shut up. Not even your perpetual pessimism can ruin this for me." She rubbed her hands over her belly in slow, caressing circles. "Everything is going to be perfect," she repeated. She turned her eyes down to her stomach and cradled it in her hands like she was cuddling it close. "We'll be our own little family," she murmured to it.

House rolled his eyes. Any time Cuddy had a 'bonding' moment with the baby made him feel uncomfortable. "Please. Save your Lifetime movie moments for when I'm far out of tooth decay range."

"If you don't want to hear it, you know where the front door is."

"Well, you know it's not going to be perfect. There's no such thing as perfect."

"I know there's no such thing as perfect." Cuddy glanced up at him sharply. "But I have a right to enjoy this. I have a right to be happy. I'm not going to let you and your insane need to inflict misery on everyone around you to rob me of the happiness I deserve."

"I never said you didn't deserve--"

"Then shut up and let me be happy. It's not a lot to ask."

He opened his mouth to argue but closed it again. He saw nothing wrong with trying to inject a dose of reality into Cuddy's baby bubble, but he recognised a losing battle when he spotted one. "Well, I'm done here," he said, brushing past her. "I'm going home."

"Already? You only just got here."

"I wouldn't want to go from title of pest to Cuddy's odd jobs man. I'm sticking to pest."

"Pests never leave."

"I'm only a part-time pest. I spend the rest of my time avoiding being pestered by you."

"Why do you keep coming here, then?"

"To be a pest."

"If you were a real pest, I would've called the exterminator guy by now. House."

He stopped at the door and looked back at her.

Cuddy smiled. "Thanks."

He didn't want to hear it. He turned away without so much as a dismissive snort and stepped out into the hall to fetch his coat.

* * *

"Add these to the bill, too." House tossed a bag of cheese and onion potato chips onto Wilson's lunch tray just as he was handing a few crisp dollar bills over to the cashier.

Wilson looked over his shoulder. "Damn. I thought I'd disconnected the green light."

"Nope. I saw the light turn green all the way up from my office and knew it was feeding time."

"You know, I read about something like that once. An experiment on rats and how they responded to visual cues – they knew there was food to be found in the maze every time the light went on."

"You saying I'm a pest?"

"I think that would be an understatement of the year."

"Speaking of lights, the orange one just came on." House grabbed up a bottle of juice and dropped it onto the tray. "Beverage light."

"Shall we move onto the red light while we're at it?"

"I told you once before – that light burns out once every two weeks. Although..." He leaned towards Wilson and sniffed curiously. "You also give off a strange odour every time a new nurse starts in radiology. Did you mistakenly drink cologne this morning instead of coffee?"

Wilson rolled his eyes and faced back to the cashier. "Add those to the bill," he sighed, waving at the chips and juice. Once he paid, House followed him through the cafeteria to a vacant table. "How's Cuddy?"

House took a seat opposite Wilson and reached for one of his fries. "Amost 39 weeks pregnant."

"Aside from the obvious."

He shrugged. "Same as always. Bossy, annoying, showing even more cleavage these days now her boobs are going into the dairy business."

Opening a sachet of pepper, Wilson gave him a look. "You know, if I wanted a run down on what I already know, I would've gone to ask her how she was doing myself."

"Well, why don't you? Her office is just over there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"Because I know you've been spending time with her. Figured you'd have better insight into how she was doing than me parading into her office and making small talk."

House glanced around him self-consciously. Nobody knew who the contributing party towards Cuddy's baby bulge was and he wanted to keep it that way. "Why do you care how Cuddy's doing? You do parade into her office and make small talk." He plucked up another fry and pointed it accusingly at Wilson. "You went shopping with her. Got all pseudo-paternal. Bought baby stuff. You can't tell me you didn't make any small talk with her then."

Wilson stopped in mid-sprinkle of pepper over his food. "That wasn't 'pseudo-paternal'. That was me being there for her as a _friend_. I went with her to offer my opinion on things she needed to get, because she doesn't have anybody else to do that with." He motioned at House. "Apart from you. And given your extreme reluctance to do anything helpful, that technically means she only has me."

"She's got friends," House retorted.

"Not the sort she feels close enough to, to involve in her life this intimately."

"If she's involving you in her life so intimately, why are you asking me how she's doing?"

"She isn't involving me. And besides, I'm not the father of her child."

"I'm not, either," he replied, indignant.

Wilson raised his brows. "Technically, you are."

House threw another self-conscious glance around the cafeteria. "Biologically. Otherwise? No."

"So, why have you been hanging out with her more these past few months, then?"

House opened his mouth but faltered. "Figured maybe she'd be a sure thing," he settled on answering. "She was for six months or so there, before that thing in her uterus spoiled all the fun."

"That 'thing' you were helping her fall pregnant with."

House waved his hand.

"Are you spending more time with her because you want to be involved?"

He stared at Wilson for a moment, then pulled an affronted look. " _God_ , no."

"There's nothing wrong with it if you do. In fact, it might do you some good, involving yourself in someone's else's life rather than focusing so much on yourself for a change."

"I'm not interested in focusing on anyone else but myself. I'm all the company I need."

Wilson's face dropped into a deadpan expression. "Right. Which is why you need me to have lunch dates with." He shook his head and forked up some more food. "Look. I'm not saying you have to commit yourself to Cuddy, or marry her, or even care about her that much. All I'm saying is it wouldn't hurt to think about involving yourself in the kid's life a little."

"You've known what the arrangement between Cuddy and me has been for the last nine months. Why the sudden change in tune now?" He narrowed his eyes. "Has Cuddy said something to you that she hasn't told me?"

"No." Wilson held his hands up. "Absolutely not."

"Then why--"

"It's just something to think about."

"I don't want to think about it."

"I know you don't. Which is why I'm prompting you to. No harm in that, is there?" Wilson gestured to him. "The birth, for example. Last I heard, she'll be doing it completely on her own. Childbirth is a big thing. A little support could go a long way."

"If you're so concerned about Cuddy's support network, why don't you be there for the birth?"

"Again. Not the father. She's never asked me, anyway."

"Meaning you would if she did?" House stared at Wilson incredulously.

"I would... do what I can to support Cuddy," he replied slowly, sounding taken a little off-guard by the question. "Within reason."

"You mean you'd be too chicken to be there at the birth."

"You can talk."

House eyed him suspiciously as he pried his bag of chips open. "You're wasting your time." He fished a chip out of the bag. "Involving myself was never part of the agreement. And that includes the birth."

"So, why are you involved at all?"

Again, House stared. It suddenly occurred to him how much Wilson talked and how annoying the sound of his voice was at times. Like right now.

"Priorities change," Wilson continued. "Contrary to what you think, change isn't always a bad thing, House."

After popping a chip into his mouth, he reached over the table again to snatch another of Wilson's fries. He contemplated picking all the fries up at once and gagging Wilson with them. "My priorities haven't changed. And they're not going to."

Wilson sighed and picked his fork up again. "Evidently not."

* * *

House was in the middle of changing the light bulb in the hall when a knock sounded at the door. He was balanced precariously on a stool he'd dragged from the kitchen, fresh bulb out of the box held between his teeth while he kept one hand braced against the wall for balance as he unscrewed the blown one from its socket.

"Wait," he shouted when the knock sounded on the door a second time. He switched the broken bulb with the one between his teeth, grunting as he screwed it into place. Carefully, he climbed off the stool and flicked the light switch on.

No light.

"God damn it," he muttered just as the knock sounded at the door again. He grabbed his cane from where he'd left it standing against the bookshelf. "All _right_. I'm coming!"

Wiping an arm across his brow, he reached the door and yanked it open with an annoyed retort on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he frowned in surprise. "What're you doing here?"

"I need to discuss something with you," Cuddy replied briskly. "I'll only take a minute."

House poked his head out the door and glanced around the foyer, searching for some clue as to why Cuddy was here. "What is it?"

"You going to let me in?"

"Why should I?"

She opened her mouth but then waved her hand at him. "Fine." She fished out an envelope from her handbag and held it out to him. "Read over this."

He eyed it. "I'm not accepting anything that could contain anthrax."

"I knew there was something I forgot to lace this with." She motioned to it insistently.

"You going to tell me what it is? It could be a trap for all I know."

"Paternity affidavit papers," she said.

House stared at her and she appeared suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze. He decided this wasn't a conversation he wanted his entire apartment complex to hear. He stepped back and yanked the door open wider for her. She stepped inside, unbuttoning her thick overcoat and fanning her pregnancy-flushed face.

"Why?" he demanded once he shut the door.

"I know we agreed your only role in this was to be the sperm donor," she began, "but I've been doing some rethinking lately, about how there's only me around for the baby. And if something should happen--"

"You've got family. Make them suffer the consequences of your desire to breed if you should ever get hit by a bus."

Cuddy gave him a stern look. "They live in a different state. If something happened to me, I'd need someone within immediate contact to deal with everything until my family could be reached to take over."

"Ask Wilson to do it. He'd be tickled pink."

"He's not the biological father."

"So? Nobody needs to know who the biological father is."

"Exactly. Meaning nobody would have to even know you are the biological father."

"Wasn't part of the deal that I'd be signing my life over to anything. Ergo, no deal."

"You're not 'signing your life over' to anything," Cuddy exclaimed. "Nothing probably will happen to me, but I like to keep all my bases covered because I want what's best for this child."

"If you want what's best for your kid, you're looking at the wrong guy. I'm the last person you want being in charge of your kid."

"I asked you to be the father, didn't I?" she replied with a pointed look.

"Not the father. The contributing party. Big difference."

"Oh, for God's sake, House. You're--"

"Don't you get how impractical this stupid idea of yours is? You get my name notarised on the kid's birth certificate, you're going to need my signature on other things. Kid's passport, official documents..."

Her expression grew incredulous. "You'd rather focus on how much it inconveniences you instead of what's best for this kid?"

"I'm not obliged to give a crap about this kid," he replied. "Putting my name on a birth certificate means I am obliged."

"I'm not asking you to give a crap about this kid. I'm asking you to give a crap about me."

House shook his head. "No deal. I did my bit. I'm not doing you any more favours."

Cuddy lowered the envelope to her side and gazed up at him with a look that made House's insides squirm with defensiveness. "You're right," she said quietly. She stuffed the envelope back into her handbag. "This was a stupid idea. I should've known you'd be an asshole about this."

"Bad judgement has always been a strong point of yours," he agreed. "Especially when it comes to men."

"I'd hoped you'd be a bit more understanding about this, seeing you've been going out of your way to spend time with me. At my house. Something you weren't obliged to do. Trust you to twist that into something to humiliate me with." She faced towards the door, buttoning her coat back up aggressively.

House wasn't sure where to look. A part of him was already regretting half the things he'd just said. Another part of him wanted Cuddy out of his apartment and fast. "Why'd you wait until now to hit me with this affidavit crap?"

"No, I have a better question." Cuddy reeled around to face him, fingers fumbling with the top button on her coat. The coat itself barely fitted around her stomach; the buttonholes were stretched taut. "Why did you agree to help me out, House? Why did you agree to father this child? Surely not for my benefit? My benefit doesn't even matter to you, right?"

He frowned, shuffling back as Cuddy took a step towards him. He had to make room for her huge belly, but that didn't explain why the angry expression on her face intimidated him.

"What is it you want, House? You cut me off after I fell pregnant, you ignored me for at least two months, and then you began not only intruding on my life but inviting yourself into it as though you wanted to be a part of everything."

"I--"

"And _then_ , when I turn to you for support, you knock me back as though _I'm_ the one who's intruding."

He closed his mouth again and set his jaw, unable to tear his eyes away from Cuddy's. He felt glued to the spot, cornered like a deer in the headlights.

"You know, it's a good thing you didn't decide to be part of this kid's life," she continued crisply. "Being a single mother is going to be hard enough as it is, let alone if I'd been foolish enough to hope I could count on you."

He defensively straightened his shoulders. "So, why are you here, then?"

"Because I don't have a lot of people I can turn to. And seeing you've been giving me mixed signals with voluntarily hanging around, I thought maybe you were offering to be a person that I could turn to."

"You knew you were flying solo from the beginning. Don't blame me if you think you can't handle it."

She glared at him. "Of course I can handle it. That doesn't mean I can't hope for a little extra support."

"Support, right," House scoffed. "So, you've sprung the affidavit on me. Next thing you'll be asking me to be there for the birth."

"As if I'd be stupid enough to ask something like that of you."

"Well, who knows. You were stupid enough to ask me to provide voluntary paternity acknowledgement."

"Stupid, yes. Thanks so much for making me feel like even more of an idiot than I already do." She threw her hands up and turned back to the door. "Forget it. Forget everything. I won't bother you again."

"More famous last words."

She shot him a fierce look over her shoulder as she yanked the door open. "I'm sticking to my word this time. Trust me. I wouldn't want to give you that satisfaction."

The sound of the door slamming echoed through his apartment.

* * *

House rolled the stool back from the exam table and snapped a glove off his hand. "Next time you get vaginal candidiasis, just go straight to the doctor. You've put me off yoghurt for life. And I happen to like yoghurt."

The young woman unhooked her feet from the stirrups and sat up with a perplexed look on her face. "I have vaginal candidiasis? Is that bad? I thought I had a yeast infection."

He stopped tugging the other glove off to peer at her. How did some of his patients manage to get through life being so stupid? "Vaginal candidiasis is a yeast infection."

"Oh." She frowned. "But I thought yoghurt was a natural remedy for that."

He tossed her the blanket she'd used to cover herself up when removing her underwear before the examination. "You were almost on the right track. But it amazes me that you didn't stop to think that maybe the fruit lumps found in strawberry yoghurt was a bad idea. In fact, strawberry yoghurt itself is a bad idea when you try to eat it with your hoo-hoo instead of your mouth."

"But I thought..."

"And that's exactly where you went wrong. You thought. But not with your brain." He tossed the gloves in the trash and reached for his prescription pad. He scribbled out a scrip and held it out to her. "Diflucan, twice a day for two weeks. Are you allergic to penicillin?"

"Not that I know of."

He wrote another scrip. "You're going to need some of that, too, before experimentation with strawberry yoghurt turns into a bacterial funfair for the rest of your body." He grabbed his cane and stood up. "Repeat after me," he said when he reached the door. "'All strawberry yoghurt and no brains makes me an annoying patient'."

"All strawberry yoghurt and no brains..." The woman trailed off and frowned at him.

He yanked the door open. "Good enough," he dismissed. He went to step out of the exam room to fetch another clinic file, only to be stopped short in surprise by Cuddy standing right in front of him. "Whoa."

Cuddy tilted her chin up, a defiant look on her face. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't."

"I'm the boss. What I say goes."

"Who says I have to listen to you? Besides." He lifted the file and waved it. "Got more morons to see."

"Those 'morons' can wait five another minutes." She grasped his arm and steered him out of the exam room, while he closed the door behind him. The clinic bustled with people, ranging from those wiping their nose caused by a winter cold, to mothers nursing their sick children on their lap. Clinic was no busier than usual, except more than busy enough for House: an hour of clinic rotation and he was already developing a splitting headache.

She pulled him up next to a gurney kept vacant in the hall for any emergencies that needed to be rushed to another part of the hospital. "You were right," she began in a low voice, leaning in as close as her belly would allow. "I shouldn't have sprung the affidavit on you last night. That was unfair of me to do that."

House blinked. He threw a quick look around the corridor to make sure no one was listening, then turned back to Cuddy. "Okay," he replied slowly. He tilted his head, eyes narrowed. "You seemed pretty certain about it last night."

"I know. I thought it was the right thing to do. Clearly, it wasn't and... and I'm sorry."

"Now who's giving mixed signals?"

"I'm not giving you any mixed signals. I'm apologising for being out of line."

"You're apologising for wanting what's best for your kid?"

"I'm not..." She squinted. "'What's best for my kid'? Now you're saying I wasn't being an idiot?"

"I'm not saying anything. What you think is best for your kid is your thing." Cuddy opened her mouth but he quickly interrupted, "Of course, that's not going to stop me from thinking you're an idiot."

Cuddy pressed her lips into a thin line. She grabbed his arm again and House found himself being steered towards an exam room across the hallway. Cuddy checked to make sure the coast was clear. She then tugged him inside and shut the door.

"Why do you do this?" she demanded.

"Do what?"

"Twist everything. Contradict everything. Make everything so damn difficult."

"You're the one contradicting. You barged into my apartment last night, waving affidavit papers, when you knew I wasn't going to sign them. I don't want to be part of this kid's life. You knew that."

"I explained to you why I hoped you'd sign those papers," Cuddy angrily replied. "I wasn't trying to trick you into being a father. It was simply a matter of legal convenience in case anything should happen to me."

"So you claimed."

Cuddy stared at him. "You think I'd trick you into being a father to this kid?"

"Who knows. Single moms can do some pretty desperate things."

"I'm not desperate. I'm..." Cuddy drew in a sharp breath. "I can't believe you think I'd do something like that."

"If it's that unbelievable, then why do you feel the need to apologise about springing the affidavit on me? You obviously feel guilty about something, otherwise you would've stuck to what you said last night."

"You're incredible."

"Who told you?"

"House..." She opened her mouth and formed a few silent vowels like she was struggling to find the right words to say. She looked away and pressed her lips together again, then stepped back towards the door. "I have nothing more to say to you."

* * *

"Just this," House said to the cashier, waving a magazine at her.

"That'll be $3.95."

He slapped the magazine down to the counter and reached into his coat pocket for his wallet. It had been a long day. Between his confrontation with Cuddy and being unable to take his mind off it for the rest of the afternoon, all he wanted to do now was go home and absorb himself in something mindless and inane. Supermarket tabloids were good for that, especially ones that claimed in sensationalised print across the cover, _Dwarf Slays Bigfoot!_

"A dollar and five change," the woman said once he handed over a five dollar bill. He pocketed the change, grabbed the magazine and reached a hand up to tug his toque over his ears to brace himself against the icy cold evening outside.

"You told Cuddy that you think she's trying to trick you into being a father?"

House startled and looked over his shoulder to see Wilson standing just behind him, buttoned up in his long overcoat, a scarf around his neck and his briefcase clutched in his gloved hand. House glanced at the cashier, hoping she hadn't overheard. She appeared oblivious to anything Wilson just said. House turned back to him. "When'd you get here?"

"Just now. House, you told Cuddy--"

"I heard you the first time." He started around the magazine stand towards the exit.

He heard Wilson's footsteps catching up behind him briskly. "House."

"Go away."

"Negative." Just as he reached the door, Wilson cut in front of him. The doors slid open and a gust of icy wind blew in. "This afternoon, I walked in on Cuddy crying at her desk."

"So? She's pregnant. Pregnant women cry all the time."

"Cuddy doesn't cry. Not easily. The woman's almost as stubborn about showing weakness as you are."

House pushed past Wilson. If he had to insist on having this conversation, House didn't want to have it while standing right in the middle of the hospital where others could overhear. More than that, he definitely didn't want to hear about Cuddy crying. He hunched his shoulders against the cold, negotiating the distance between the front entrance and his car. He wondered if he could make a quick getaway before Wilson could get on his case any further.

No such luck. Wilson fell into step beside him. "Why would you tell her that? You know that's not true."

Stopping at the edge of the pavement, House turned to him. "I didn't say anything to her. She made some assumptions that turned around and bit her on her ample ass, because she didn't have the common sense to think them through properly."

"What kind of assumptions?"

"The affidavit kind."

Wilson frowned. "Paternity affidavit?"

House waved Wilson off and turned back to his car, determined not to be dragged into a conversation about this. Wilson, however, wasn't so easy to be dismissed. "Whoa, whoa." He was cut off again by Wilson rounding himself in his path. "She asked you to sign an affidavit?"

"No. She just came to my apartment to wave one in my face for fun."

A look of realisation dawned on Wilson's face. "And you took it to the extreme, like you always do, and assumed her to be tricking you into being a father to this kid." He lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Seemed pretty fishy to me."

"House," Wilson sighed, dropping his hand back to his side, "do you know Cuddy at all? Do you honestly think she would go out of her way to deceive you like that?"

"She's gone out of her way to deceive me in the past."

Wilson raised a gloved hand and pointed accusingly. "You, of all people, can talk about deceiving people. That's how you operate – by tricking people into doing things so you get your way."

"You can talk," he countered. "You're a serial manipulator."

"And you're a serial deflector."

"That's because you're serially annoying." House stepped around him in another attempt to head to his car, stopping short again with an aggravated sigh when Wilson intercepted him.

"Cuddy is about to become a single mother. She's alone. She's excited about being a new mom, but she's probably a bit scared, too. Understandably so. She probably turned to you for some kind of support in hope you'd be there for her.... which, admittedly, was a bit foolish on her part, given your track record with supporting people."

"Seeing you care so much about her welfare, you support her."

"It's not up to me to decide who gets to support her. It's up to her to decide who she wants to be a support for her. I can only do so much. She turned to you, House. Not me."

"But it's up to me to decide if I'm going to."

"Which you're not." Wilson threw a hand up and shook his head.

"At last. We understand each other."

"Doesn't it matter to you that maybe Cuddy might actually need some support?"

"Nope." He brushed past Wilson, determined to make it to his car this time. "It's not my problem if she didn't think things through until it was too late."

"Do you have to be an asshole?"

He stopped in the middle of the road and turned to look back at Wilson. "I don't have to do or be anything. But I get things my way if I do things my way."

"How exactly is being an asshole 'getting your way'?"

"Means I don't have to give a crap. I mean, why would I want to give one of those?"

He raised his brows with mock incredulity, then turned back to his car, leaving Wilson standing on the footpath with a dumbfounded look on his face.

* * *

House jolted awake at the sound of the phone ringing. Lifting his face from the pillow, he peered blearily at the clock on his bedside table. 2.35am. He reached out, slapping various things – the stack of books next to his clock, a Vicodin bottle, the clock itself – before his fingers came in contact with the phone.

"This better be good," he mumbled, answering after the sixth ring.

"House, it's me."

All grogginess was immediately shaken away at the sound of Cuddy's voice. An ominous feeling hit his stomach. "What do you want?"

"Nothing." He heard Cuddy clear her throat on the other end of the line. "I just called to tell you that I've started having contractions. They're ten minutes apart. I'm going into the hospital."

House paused. He hadn't anticipated on Cuddy calling him. He didn't know why she was calling him. He bit back the urge to ask. "Have fun," he settled on replying.

Cuddy snorted quietly. "Fun. Right." Another pause. "Just thought you ought to know."

The phone line cut off, leaving him listening to the busy tone beeping in his ear. He slowly returned the phone to its cradle and settled back down to the pillow, his stomach twisting in knots. Plenty of times, he'd pictured the moment where he found out Cuddy was in labour. He'd tried to imagine how he'd feel, how he'd react, and he always came to the conclusion that he wouldn't care. He wasn't supposed to care, after all.

But now the actual moment had arrived. He turned his head the other way and closed his eyes, then rolled over onto his side to go back to sleep. By daylight, he was still wide awake.


	2. Ran Aground, My Ship Left To Rust

Leaning back in his desk chair, House tossed his ball in the air for the umpteenth time. Outside, rain fell heavily while the wind blew in sharp wintry gusts. People passed in the corridor outside his office, rushing to meetings or consults or other duties their jobs demanded. It seemed like a day like any other. Nothing was different around him. He could almost trick himself into believing that nothing had changed, that Cuddy wasn't down in L&D exploring the physics of pushing a basketball through a soda straw.

He tossed the ball into the air again and caught it in both hands. Doing something repetitive and mindless helped take his mind off things he didn't want to think about. His eyes felt tired and itchy from lack of sleep, and his head felt heavy with stress that he couldn't shake no matter how much he tried.

A sudden burst of noise from the corridor flooded into his office, along with the quiet _whoosh_ of the door being pushed open. House glanced towards the intruder: Wilson. If the stern look on Wilson's face was anything to go by, House had a feeling he was in for a lecture of some kind.

He went back to tossing the ball in the air.

"So," Wilson announced after a short lull. "I take it you're aware that Cuddy's in labour."

"Yep." He caught the ball and tossed it up again.

"And I take it you haven't been down to see her."

"Nope."

"Or even checked up on her."

"Nope."

Another pause fell over the room. "Are you going to?"

House glanced at Wilson. "Nope. Why should I?"

Wilson squinted. "Because it's Cuddy? I thought maybe she mattered to you enough that you'd at least be concerned for her well-being during childbirth."

"It's childbirth, not open heart surgery." He resumed tossing the ball. "Besides, not my kid. I'm not obliged to care that it's slowly and painfully being expelled from her body one agonising contraction at a time."

"No, you're not obliged to care about the kid. But I thought you'd feel somewhat obliged to care about Cuddy after everything she's done for you."

"Oh, please." House swivelled his chair around to face Wilson. "Guilt-tripping me into caring isn't going to work."

"Right, of course you'd see this as guilt-tripping. How silly of me that you'd even think to approach this like a mature adult." He looked at his watch. "She's been in labour for over thirteen hours now."

"So? Piece of cake compared to twenty hour labours. Or thirty hour labours." He leaned back in his chair to resume throwing the ball in the air again. "Judging from the fact that you're keeping tabs on her progress, I take it you've been down to see her."

"Well, of course I have. She's a friend. I care about her."

"Well, good for you. Pass on my regards when you see her next."

"Why don't you go down there and do it yourself?"

"I'm busy."

"Busy playing ball while Cuddy is in labour. Clearly, you have very clear-cut priorities."

"Priorities. That sounds familiar. Didn't we discuss that the other day?" He waved his hand dismissively at Wilson. "Seriously. Shoo. If I was interested in giving a crap, I would. But as it happens, I'm not. "

Wilson pressed his lips together. "You're an ass."

"Oh, please. Is that the best you can do?"

Wilson held his hands up and kept that pose for a moment as though biting back a reply that he'd later regret. He turned and House watched him head out of his office in a stiff, angry stride. The moment Wilson was out of sight, House glanced at the phone on his desk and he considered, for all of a second, contacting the labour ward and finding out about Cuddy's progress.

He looked away and drew in a deep breath, suppressing a sudden burst of unease. Swivelling his chair away so he was facing the rain-dotted window, he resumed tossing the ball in the air.

* * *

"You're still here?"

House jerked awake, startled. For a few seconds, he gazed in confusion around his office, trying to work out where he was. More to the point, why he was here. He was sprawled on his recliner, feet propped up on the ottoman and his coat covering the top half of his body as a makeshift blanket. How long had he been asleep? He glanced to the window and saw that it was pitch black outside.

"House?"

He turned his head and saw Wilson standing near the door. He looked weary, eyes bloodshot with tiredness, his shirt rumpled and his tie loose. "What time is it?"

"Almost one in the morning."

House frowned. "Seriously?" He stretched his eyes open wide and shifted on the seat. He let out a quiet groan at the painful kink in his neck as he pulled his coat down from his chest. He rubbed his eyes. Had Cuddy given birth yet? When had he actually fallen asleep? "Must've dozed off."

"Right. Well, in case you care, Cuddy's still in labour."

House looked back up at him. He quickly calculated how much time had passed since she called him. Almost 24 hours. "Sounds fun."

"Hardly. She's still only six centimetres dilated."

"I'm sure she's taking it all like a champ."

"She's exhausted. Her labour's dystocic."

"She'll live. If it stays dystocic, that's nothing a c-section can't fix."

"Why don't you go down there and tell her that yourself?" Wilson snapped.

"She's one of those medical people. What do you call them...? Oh, right. Doctors. I'm pretty sure she can work out for herself where dystocia normally ends up." He stiffly pushed himself up, dropping his coat behind him on the seat. "Suck it out, pry it out, cut it out. It's gotta come out somehow. It all ends up with the same result: a bald, angry baby."

Wilson crossed an arm over his chest and wearily wiped his other hand over his face. "Why are you still here, House?"

"I told you. I dozed off. Why are you still here?"

"Someone has to be here for her."

"Cheering her vagina on? Very noble of you."

"I'm not doing any cheering, especially not around any vaginas. I'm just simply checking up on her from time to time, just to reassure her that someone's here for her." Wilson ran his hands through his hair before holding them up. "Okay, look. Her labour doesn't look like it's going to make progress any time soon, so I'm going to go and have a nap in my office. I'm beat."

"You say that like I'm supposed to care."

"House..." Wilson covered his face with his hands and let out a long sigh. "I can't be bothered arguing with you right now. Whatever the reason you're still here..." He dropped his arms to his sides, shoulders slumped. His hair was sticking up in all angles from having just raked his fingers through it. "Just do something that'll benefit us all, like go home."

House watched him slouch out of his office. He had no intention of heading down to L&D to see how Cuddy was doing. He wasn't sure what to do with himself, either, but for some reason, being in the hospital felt less nerve-wracking than the idea of being a ten minute drive away, especially now he knew that Cuddy's labour was complicated.

After he tugged his jacket on to keep warm, he entered the dark conference room and headed across to the kitchenette. He dumped the old coffee grounds from the filter into the trash and set about making a fresh pot, carrying a red mug back into his office once the coffee had brewed.

He sat down at his desk with a stifled yawn. Outside, the rain was still beating against the window. A night janitor strolled by in the dim corridor with a mop. The hospital was eerily quiet. House found himself trying to picture what state Cuddy was in right now. Was she loopy with pain meds? Maybe she was being administered oxytocin to push her labour along. He propped an elbow on the desk and dropped his face into his hand, rubbing it. It didn't matter how Cuddy was doing, he reminded himself as he swallowed a couple of Vicodin pills, because he didn't care. As long as she lived, he had no reason to be concerned.

He remained seated at his desk, leaving only to go back into the conference room for another cup of coffee and then to pace the corridor outside his office when he got too restless to stay idle. His shoulders were tense and his leg hurt. More than a few times, he considered phoning down to L&D, just as many times as he considered going home. He felt caught in limbo, itching to know what was going on but too stubborn to go and find out for himself.

By the time five o'clock eventually rolled around, he was agitated and on the brink of making a rash decision to just find out Cuddy's progress for himself. He was heading back into the conference room to get another cup of coffee in a futile attempt to wake himself up when he saw Wilson walking down the hall towards him. House stopped in the middle of the room, cup in hand, and watched as Wilson pushed the door open.

"What's going on?"

"Obstetrician on duty called for a crash c-section about ten minutes ago. Cuddy's labour was still dystocic, so they put her on an hourly IV push of pitocin. When her water finally broke, they found traces of meconium." Wilson lifted his hands to his face and scrubbed it before setting them on his hips. "Possible meconium aspiration."

"Why'd they take so long to induce her?"

"Cuddy didn't want intervention. She wanted a completely drug-free birth."

"At the risk of the foetus."

"She didn't put anybody at risk. She was simply--"

"Being stubborn enough to refuse medical intervention because she wanted to come out the other end of her childbirth looking like a champ."

Wilson fixed him with a disgusted look. "Would it kill you to be concerned for Cuddy instead of twisting this into something that proves she's somehow a failure for wanting to bring her child into the world the way she hoped?"

"Never said she was a failure. Just that she's an idiot. She probably could've avoided a c-section altogether if she'd had the capability to see past her pride."

"Maybe if you'd gone down to see Cuddy, you would've seen for yourself what was happening. Maybe then you would've been able to convince Cuddy to change her mind. But no. You refused to go down there because you refuse to care about anyone but yourself."

"Why would she listen to me?"

"Because she trusts your medical judgement. But it's too late for that now because you did nothing except hide out in your office. Like you always do." Wilson held his hands up. "Look, I just came up here to tell you what happened and that she'll be out of the OR within the next half hour. Just in case you care. But don't go out of your way or anything."

House watched with a creeping feeling of guilt as Wilson shoved the door open and stepped out into the hall.

* * *

"You can only stay for ten minutes," the NICU nurse told House quietly.

"Not planning on staying, anyway," he replied. He followed her down the dim, narrow corridor, glancing at the walls which were decorated with collage after collage of photos of tiny babies nestled in incubators. Interspersed with the pictures were stories of survival that parents had written on colourful sheets of paper and cardboard, accompanied with pictures of where their kid was at several years on. The nurse, a tall, thin woman with red hair knotted at the nape of her neck, led him around a corner, which opened out into a layout of five different intensive care rooms. The most critical babies were down the far left in room one, the least critical in room five to the far right.

She pointed at room three. "You'll find her in crib six."

As she turned to walk away, House stopped her again. "A little birdie told me meconium was passed in the uterus. Any sign of MAS?"

The nurse – Elaine, according to her nametag – shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't give out that information. Patient confidentiality."

"The baby's not going to care."

"It's Dr. Cuddy's baby. She has a right to patient confidentiality."

"Ever heard that phrase 'what she doesn't know won't hurt her'?"

"I told you - I can't give out that information."

"Right. And yet you let me in to see the kid. That, technically, is a breach of patient confidentiality, too." He stepped closer. "I'm higher up on the medical food chain than you. Which means you have two options: one, you can tell me the information I want to know and this little ethical slipup won't go any further. Or two, you don't give me the information I want and I'll tell your superior that you've been letting people in to see other people's babies without the parents' consent."

Elaine paled. "Fine. Lungs are clear; no sign of aspiration. She presented with a small amount of meconium in the mouth."

"And how long are you keeping it under observation?"

Elaine didn't appear too impressed with the pronoun he gave the baby. "Probably just for the next 24 hours. _She_ is doing really well. She'll probably be transferred to room five by tomorrow. Might even get to be reunited with Dr. Cuddy by tomorrow afternoon."

"Apgars?"

She hesitated. "I'm not giving you any more information."

"No biggie. I'll just go and find your superior." He took a step forward. Elaine dashed a hand out and blocked his path.

"Okay, okay. I don't know. But I can find out for you."

"Really? Wow. Thank you," he replied without a hint of sincerity.

She gave him a sour look and walked off. House slowly approached the third intensive care room. In the far left corner, a young mother in a hospital gown sat by a crib with her hands in the access ports, stroking her baby's arm. Incubators lined either side of the room, all of them occupied with an infant; some were hooked up to quietly beeping heart monitors and PAP ventilators or oxygen via nasal cannula. He followed the numbered cribs until he reached the one labelled 'six' on the opposite side of the room.

Affixed to the side of of the incubator was a small pink placard, detailing the sex of the baby, the date and time of birth, its weight and length: female, 6Lbs 4oz, 17 inches, born 2008/1/28 at 5.09am. Under the label 'name', the words 'Baby Girl Cuddy' were scrawled in capitals.

He looked down at the baby, which was asleep on its back and naked save for a cloth diaper. The umbilical stump was fastened with a yellow plastic clamp. An IV was attached to her left hand, a thermistor taped to the abdomen, three ECG electrodes to her chest, and name tags were affixed to her right wrist and right ankle. Unlike some of the other babies in the room, she was breathing freely without the aid of a breathing apparatus. The baby was chubby and a healthy pink colour, and the crown of its head boasted a fuzzy tuft of pale hair.

"First Apgar was five, second was eight."

House glanced at the nurse, who'd joined his side. "See?" he replied, turning back to the baby. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Why are you interested in Dr. Cuddy's baby, anyway?"

"I'm not interested," he lied.

"You just asked for an update on her condition and her Apgars. That's interested."

"No. That's prying on account of me wanting to know Dr. Cuddy's business."

"Only people who are interested in something pry to find out information. People don't pry for the sake of prying."

"I do." He shot the nurse an annoyed look. "You going to go away?"

"You have less than ten minutes left of your visitation. You're not supposed to be here; I want to make sure you leave in time."

"Your superior here?"

"Not yet."

"Relax," he said when he noticed how fidgety she was. He turned back to the incubator. "I'll be out of your hair in a couple of minutes."

The baby's arm jerked and it let out a soft gurgle. He found it difficult to fathom this kid had inherited half his genes; it was like watching through a smokescreen. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" the nurse said, breaking the lull of silence. "She had a pretty tough entrance into the world, but she's going to be okay."

"A baby's a baby. They're all the same to me."

"So, what's so special about Dr. Cuddy's?"

"Just wanted to check for horns or cloven hooves. Did the kid come with a pitch fork?"

"This isn't Rosemary's baby," the nurse said, giving him a disgusted look.

"No, but everyone knows Dr. Cuddy made a deal with the Devil to be the woman on top."

The baby began crying in earnest. As the nurse rounded the incubator and reached for the access ports, House decided that was his cue to leave.

* * *

"What room is Dr. Cuddy in?" House asked a blonde nurse seated at the nurses station.

She looked up from her file work. "She's resting. Visiting hours aren't until 6.30pm."

"I'm a doctor. I work here. That means I automatically get a backstage pass to everything."

"I'm sorry. Dr. Cuddy is resting. Visiting hours aren't until 6.30pm."

"Do you think repeating yourself is going to make me listen to you?"

His eyes caught the patient room assignment board hanging on the wall behind the nurse. Cuddy's name was listened next to bed 12A. "Actually, you're right," he conceded, flashing the nurse a friendly smile that was hardly motivated by friendliness. "I'll come back this evening. See how she's doing then. Sorry to have disturbed you."

"No problem," she replied, returning the smile.

House turned and wandered down the corridor to make it seem like he was leaving. It was just past one in the afternoon and the entire L&D was quiet, save for a baby crying in one of the rooms. He looked back at the nurse when he was almost at the door and saw she had returned to her file work. He turned around, halting abruptly as she suddenly got up from her chair. She headed into the small common room just beside the nurses station, calling out something to another nurse. House stole the opportunity to pick up his pace, quietly pushing the door open when he reached room 12.

It was a private room. Cuddy's bed was by the curtained windows with Cuddy herself huddled under the covers. A saline IV hung from its stand by her bed and next to her stood an empty bassinet where the baby was supposed to be. The room was otherwise empty except for her bags in the corner. Cuddy appeared to be asleep, but just as House decided he'd come back later, she stirred.

"House?" Her voice was soft and slurred, and her face tired and pale as she turned her head towards him.

Exhausted though he was, House had neither gone home nor gone to sleep since seeing the baby; he felt too restless to do either. He'd kept tabs on Cuddy's progress as best as he could: she'd been moved back up to the L&D ward a little after 7am, after spending over an hour in recovery. Six hours had passed since that last update.

He approached the end of her bed. "You're an idiot."

She groaned quietly in pain. "Don't. Not now."

He had a tirade ready to deliver, about how she'd been too proud to accept medical intervention until it was too late and how she probably wouldn't be suffering the consequences of a c-section if it hadn't been for her own selfishness. Hearing the quiet, stifled sounds of discomfort she was making gave him pause, however. He looked down at her chart hooked on the end of her bed instead and picked it up. Reading it, she'd received a low transverse c-section and two morphine suppositories upon completion of suturing. Her pain management plan called for morphine every four hours IV until she was lucid enough to swallow oxycodone.

"You in pain?" he asked.

"House, you're not my doctor."

"I'm _a_ doctor."

"House."

Despite how groggy Cuddy sounded, she managed to say his name in a way that made him think twice about arguing with her. He tutted and snapped the file shut. Being a doctor was something he knew how to do without hesitation. "Kid's fine," he said when Cuddy looked longingly at the empty crib. "Bald, grumpy, about seventeen inches long."

"You saw her?"

He hesitantly nodded.

"What does she look like?" she asked, sounding suddenly a bit more alert.

"A baby, surprisingly. I was expecting it to look like a fire-breathing dragon... kind of like her mom."

She snorted with a weak, exasperated smile but then sobered again. "I want to go and see her."

"You underwent an LTCS only a matter of hours ago. I know you want to be Supermom, but let's not get too ambitious."

"I need to see her."

"You will. Later. For now, rest. Kid's not going anywhere."

"She's supposed to be here."

"Well, she's not, so deal with it." He watched Cuddy turn her head towards the window and stare at the curtains, and he debated taking the chance to the leave the room. He decided against it for the moment. "Apgars were good," he said. "Five and eight."

Cuddy turned back to him. "Five?" she asked in alarm.

"And eight."

"Is she okay? Is she doing okay? Is she breathing on her own?" Cuddy paused and grimaced in pain. "I need to see her."

" _Eight_ , Cuddy."

"But--"

"Does the number eight mean anything to you on the Apgar scale?"

Cuddy lifted the hand the IV was attached to and wiped it over her face. She dropped it back to the bed in a gesture House understood as her wanting him to take her hand. He ignored it.

"On that note," he continued, "I'm outta here. Figured I do my bit by pretending to care for five minutes. And now that I have, I'm going home."

"Wait," Cuddy said when he reached the door. He looked over his shoulder to see her peering at him in confusion. "Why did you go and see her?"

He yanked the door open. He wasn't interested in discussing the baby any more than he was interested in hanging around. "Get some rest. I'll be back later. Maybe."

* * *

The afternoon had darkened with thick rain clouds by the time House arrived home. His stomach growled in hunger as he let himself in; his whole body felt gritty with the kind of fatigue only a hot shower and a good sleep would cure. His shoulders ached, too, as well as his neck – tension he hadn't realised had been building up until now.

He felt oddly misplaced. The sudden change in everything that used to be familiar to him was more than enough to make him feel uncomfortably on edge. Sleep was what mattered most, however. As he leaned back against the door, he realised that he'd easily fall asleep standing right where he was. With a quiet grunt, he walked to his bedroom, ignoring the persistent empty feeling of hunger in his stomach, and stripped his clothes off. He climbed naked into bed, exhaustion almost immediately taking over once he'd settled against the pillows.

Evening had fallen by the time he awoke again. For all of a few seconds, he tried to work out why everything felt wrong. Nothing appeared different upon first glance around his room, but then the last twenty four hours came back to him in an unpleasant rush. It had only been the night before when he'd received the phone call from Cuddy that she was in labour. That now felt like a lifetime ago.

He got out of bed, his skin breaking out in goosebumps as he hurried to the bathroom. He used the toilet and then got in the shower, cranking the hot water up to a temperature just below unbearably hot. It was close to 7pm by the time he dressed and made himself some dinner – two slices of toast spread with a generous amount of butter. He deliberated over what to do: whether to pay Cuddy a visit like he'd half promised he would, or whether to put the whole ordeal out of his mind once and for all. The latter was much easier said than done and in the end, he caved and headed for the hospital.

He pushed the door to Cuddy's room open and stopped short. A strong smell of flowers hit his nose; the room was close to overflowing with them, along with stuffed toys and numerous 'It's A Girl!' balloons. The sea of flowers wasn't what had caught him off guard, however. Gathered around Cuddy's bed were three people whom House immediately identified as her family. The man, obviously Cuddy's dad, had the same strong jaw and sloped nose. The younger woman sitting on the side of Cuddy's bed had to be her sister; she looked startlingly similar to Cuddy, except with straight, flat hair. They all stopped their conversation and looked at him, and his first instinct was to step back out into the hall.

"House," Cuddy said, surprised.

He turned his attention to Cuddy herself and noticed a vast improvement to her appearance. She was sitting up with pillows supporting her back. Her face was still pale and she had bags under eyes, but she was alert and the IV had been removed. Next to her in the bassinet lay the baby, sound asleep.

"I'll come back later," House replied.

"Wait." Cuddy gestured to him. "This is Dr. House," she told her family. "Dr. House, meet my mom, my dad and my sister."

"Hi," he said briskly to all three of them. He looked back to Cuddy. "I'm leaving now."

"House..." he heard Cuddy exclaim as he shut the door.

His eyes landed on a bench just outside Cuddy's room and after debating whether to stay or leave, he took a seat. The ward bustled with much more activity than it had when he'd been here earlier. The sound of babies crying chorused discordantly over people quietly chattering. Somewhere in one of the rooms, House could hear a little kid either playing loudly or having a tantrum – he wasn't sure which. A woman in a hospital gown wandered out from another room, pushing a crib with a sleeping baby in it. In Cuddy's room, he heard the muffled sounds of conversation, interrupted by the occasional short laugh.

A good twenty minutes passed by the time her door opened and House looked up to see Cuddy's mom, dad and sister filing out. The mother's face was lit up in a way House could only describe as New Grandma Syndrome. "Oh, there you are," she greeted.

"Here I am," he agreed dryly.

"I wanted to say a proper hello but you left so quickly. Lisa's told us a lot about you."

House eyed her warily. "All bad, I hope."

She gave him a confused frown but the sister cut in, "Mom, come on. We don't have a lot of time for a coffee break. Visiting hours end soon."

"Oh, yes," the mother replied. She smiled at House, a broad grin that was identical to Cuddy's. "We're just going to get some coffee, give Lisa a chance to have a rest."

House didn't care what they planned to do. He just hoped they'd leave so he didn't have to deal with them. He stood and turned towards the door.

"It was nice meeting you," the mother added.

He looked back at her. "That's what you think." He ducked into Cuddy's room and shut the door behind him like he couldn't close it fast enough.

"Do you have to be rude to my parents?"

"No. But seeing you've told them a lot about me, I wouldn't want them to be disappointed in their expectations."

She gave him an exasperated look. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I'm not allowed to visit?"

"I didn't think you'd want to visit."

"I don't, but I'm bored."

"Right," came Cuddy's sarcastic reply. "Because it's such a room full of fun in here."

"Well, it is now. The sea of colourful flowers takes away from how crappy you look."

"Thanks, really."

"No problem." He paused, then motioned to her. "How're you doing?"

"Better than I was earlier."

"They got you up and walking yet?"

She nodded and pointed across to the door that led into her own private bathroom. "They made me walk to the bathroom and back after they took my catheter out this evening. It was murder."

"Yeah, well. Major abdominal surgery. What do you expect?"

"Definitely not this."

"Bit naïve for a doctor. All surgery hurts."

"No, I mean this." Cuddy gestured to her stomach.

House shrugged. "Kid had to come out somehow."

"Yeah, but not--"

"If you'd accepted drug intervention, c-section probably could've been avoided. Hours of labour, arrest of descent, only to be pumped full of oxytocin almost twenty-four hours later. No wonder the kid crapped itself."

"Are you saying this is my fault?" Cuddy replied sharply.

"No. I'm just saying you're too stubborn for your own good. You're lucky the kid doesn't have meconium aspiration syndrome. Then you'd really be riding the guilt wagon."

"Are you here to visit, or are you just here to point out how much of an idiot I am?"

"Why can't it be both?"

The baby interrupted with a quiet gurgle. Glad for a distraction from Cuddy's glare, House approached the crib. He saw Cuddy had finally decided on a name. "Eva," he read out from the placard affixed to the head of the bassinet.

"Yeah," she said, her tone slightly softer at the change in topic to the baby. "It's Hebrew. It means 'life-giving'."

One of the baby's arms broke free from the covers, its fingers curling into a fist. House wanted to step back from it as far as possible. "I suppose there are worse names you could've picked."

"That's almost nice, coming from you," Cuddy intoned. "Do you want to hold her?"

He looked up at her. "No."

"You sure?"

"Not my kid, remember? Bonding is your job, not mine."

The baby made another gurgling sound, followed by a noise that sounded like the precursor to a crying fit. She turned her head to the side, mouth twisted open and an eye screwed shut: the rooting reflex. "Besides, kid's hungry. I can't help you in that department."

Cuddy sighed. "Can you at least pick her up for me?"

House looked back down to the baby. He wanted to argue that Cuddy could get the kid herself. But with it in mind that she'd only had a caesarean that same day, he set his cane aside and reached his hands into the crib. The baby kept rooting for a nipple to latch onto, its fists punching in the air while he held it uncertainly. It wasn't that he didn't know how to hold a baby, but he never thought he'd holding one who shared half his chromosomes.

Cuddy tugged her gown aside, exposing her left breast. "No comments," she warned him as she took the baby from him. She leaned back against the pillows and directed the baby's mouth to her nipple.

"Ow," Cuddy gasped softly as the baby missed the nipple altogether and latched onto the side of the breast instead. Cuddy pried its mouth away and guided it to the nipple again. After three more failed attempts, she pulled the baby away with a frustrated sigh. "They make breastfeeding look so easy. I had to express my colostrum earlier because I couldn't get her to latch."

"So? Kid's got to be fed. Complaining about it isn't going to solve anything."

"I'm not complaining, House. I'm frustrated."

"Already?" House snorted. "Boy, you're off to a good start. You've got a whole lifetime of frustration ahead of you. Might as well get used to it."

The baby let out a loud, angry whine and Cuddy directed its mouth back to her nipple again. She hissed in pain and yanked the baby away, causing it to cry louder. House glanced over his shoulder towards the door and considered making a break for it. "Look," he said, facing back to Cuddy. "Just.... Try again."

"I can't."

"Bullcrap you can't. Get a lactation consultant to help you. There's bound to be one out there somewhere who could shove that kid's mouth where it needs to go."

"I've already had a visit from a lactation consultant. Besides, I don't need anyone's help."

"Right. You're just going to keep yanking the kid around until it's so worked up it can't calm itself down."

"Well, what do you suggest I do?"

"Stop being an idiot. Keep trying until you get it right. 'Can't' isn't an option."

"Everything all right in here?"

House whipped around to see a nurse poking her head through the door.

"Do you need any help, Dr. Cuddy?" the nurse asked.

"No," Cuddy replied, "I--"

"Yes," House interrupted. "Go and get a lactation consultant, stat, before the kid's screaming starts breaking glass."

"They're all busy with other moms at the moment." The nurse slipped into the room while House turned back to Cuddy, who was glaring at him. "I know, it's not easy," the nurse continued in a cheerful voice as she reached Cuddy's bedside. "You're a new mom. It takes some practice to get breastfeeding down to a fine art. A lot of new mothers don't realise that."

"I wish someone had told me that before," Cuddy muttered.

The nurse smiled. "That's a phrase you'll probably get used to saying a lot in these next few months. Let me help you with attaching for now. I'll get a lactation consultant to pay you a visit tomorrow afternoon."

House decided to leave. He didn't want to stand around watching Cuddy trying to breastfeed any more than he wanted to stand around arguing with her. And he definitely didn't want to stand around in the same room as the kid.

He threw the door open and left without a word.

* * *

House stopped in the doorway. "You're packing already?"

Cuddy was standing by the crib, dressed in her hospital gown. The room was bursting with even more flowers, cards and baby gifts than the last time he'd been here; the smell of the flowers was almost overpowering.

"I go home tomorrow," she replied. "I'm just packing so I don't have to worry about it in the morning." She waved a hand at her overnight bags in the corner. "My mom and my sister helped me with most of it. They left about ten minutes ago. They'll be back tomorrow to take me home." She looked back at him. "Is that where you're headed?"

He nodded a little awkwardly. He was dressed in his overcoat with his bag slung over his shoulder. It was early evening and he was more than ready to head home to relax. Visiting Cuddy hadn't been something he'd planned. He'd gotten into the elevator to head to the lobby and changed his mind at the last minute.

Cuddy flashed him a brief smile. "I appreciate you stopping by."

"Don't. You'll start expecting it all the time, otherwise."

She snorted. "I never expect anything from you."

"Good. Keep it that way." He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"My bandages came off today," Cuddy said after a small pause. "Everything's healing nicely. I can't wait to have a proper shower. I feel revolting. My hair is..." She lifted her hands to her head with a grimace.

"You've got a new baby and all you care about is your hair?"

"I care about how I smell."

He sniffed the air. "Flowers are doing a good job of camouflaging anything offensive. So, apart from your body odour...?"

Cuddy shrugged. "I'm doing okay."

"Just 'okay'?"

She faced the crib, where the baby was wrapped up tight in a blanket and fast asleep. Maybe she was just fatigued, but she didn't seem herself. He frowned.

"Can't believe I'm heading home tomorrow," she finally said. "It's going to be weird having a baby in the house."

"You've had plenty of time to get used to the idea."

"Preparing for a baby, House, and having one..."

"Thought you'd be jumping for joy."

"I thought so, too."

House drummed his fingers on the pommel of his cane. It was probably just the 'baby blues' – the hormonal changes that took place after giving birth and during the first few days of milk production. "You'll get over it," he replied dismissively.

He expected Cuddy to agree with him or tell him to shut up. Instead, she lifted her hands to her face with a soft sob. He stared at her, frozen.

She furiously wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You had a kid pulled out of your lower abdomen. That's what's wrong with you."

"I know. I know. I..." Her face crumpled and she moved her hands back up to cover it. "God, I feel so out of control. I feel... I feel like I'm..."

She couldn't seem to finish her sentence. House wracked his brain for something to say, something to hopefully shut her up or at least make her stop crying. "You'll get over it," he repeated.

Cuddy threw a shooing wave at him. "Please. Just..."

He took her shooing to mean she wanted him to leave, which he was more than glad to do. He'd seen Cuddy in a lot of different emotional states – happy, angry, embarrassed, distressed. He'd never seen her cry. He didn't want to deal with it, either. That was a job for Wilson, not him. Without offering another word, he pulled the door open and walked out.

* * *

"You talked to Cuddy lately?"

House looked up from his lunch. Wilson stood beside him, clutching a lunch tray. It was just past one on a Tuesday afternoon and the cafeteria was bustling with hospital staff, lined up to collect some lunch or chattering at the tables. "No."

"You should." Wilson slid into the chair opposite and reached for his fork. "She's not doing too well."

Almost a week had passed since House had seen Cuddy breaking down in her room. As much as it had crossed his mind, he'd paid her no further visits. Too much change had happened for him to want to welcome any more of it. "She's a new mom," he replied. "That's hardly surprising."

"I visited her yesterday after work."

"Do you think telling me about it is going to make me care?"

"Your carefully sculpted façade of apathy isn't going to stop me from talking."

"Nothing ever stops you from talking."

"She's a mess. Eva's unsettled. Cuddy's exhausted. She's not coping too well."

"Do I need to start talking to you with subtitles? What part of 'I don't care' don't you understand?"

Wilson ignored him. "I heard you paid her a visit before she left the hospital." He ate a mouthful of food, then pointed his fork at House. "You should think about visiting her at home."

"No, I shouldn't."

"Fine. Allow me to rephrase. It wouldn't hurt if you visited her. She's feeling pretty alone right now."

"She's got family."

"They left this morning."

House washed down his food with a gulp of orange juice. "She knew what she was getting into."

"Theorising over having a baby and actually having one are two different things."

"Wow, Dr. Mom. I didn't recognise you behind all those pens in your pocket protector."

Wilson sighed impatiently. "The point is, I know Cuddy well enough to know when she's not coping."

"Just because she's having trouble adjusting to being a new mom doesn't mean I have to give a crap about that. She's just like every other new mother. She'll get over it. She'll work it out for herself."

"In the meantime, she needs some support until she gets to that point."

"Actually," House replied, "that sounds more like a job for oncologists who eat neediness."

Wilson squinted before his expression set into a hard look. "You're a real son of a bitch sometimes."

"Only sometimes? Maybe I'm not trying hard enough."

Wilson scooted his seat back with a sharp squeak against the floor. He grabbed his lunch tray and stood up.

"Aww. Did I just hurt the poor little oncologist's feelings?"

"House..." Wilson began. He shook his head in disgust and walked away.

* * *

House knocked on Cuddy's front door. The sensor light that had detected him walking up the garden path clicked off, leaving him standing in complete darkness. A cold, bitter wind blew into the alcove, cutting through his coat, which he tugged tighter around him. Inside, he could hear Eva crying. From how worked up she sounded, she'd been crying for a while.

He knew it was probably late by Cuddy's standards to be paying her a visit, even on a Saturday night. His conversation with Wilson on Tuesday had been playing on his mind, however, and it was close to eight o'clock when he decided in the middle of eating dinner – a bowl of canned soup and buttered bread - to go and see her. He wanted to see for himself, just this once--that she was okay, that she wasn't falling apart like she'd been in the hospital room, and that he'd have no reason to bother any further. His job was done, after all; it had finished the moment when Cuddy informed him she was pregnant all those months ago.

The curtains in her living room were drawn, so he couldn't see in. "Cuddy," he called, pounding on the door again.

The baby's cry persisted and after a few more minutes and a few more persistent knocks, there was still no sign of Cuddy.

House dismissed the feeling of unease growing in him. As much as it was unlike Cuddy to not be prompt in answering the door, he decided there would be a logical explanation for why she wasn't. He stooped down to search for the key under the potted plant, only to discover it wasn't there.

"Damn it," he muttered. The sensor light clicked back on, flooding the front yard with light as he shuffled along the porch. He searched under foliage and around the potted plants for the key. His breath came out in thick plumes of steam against the cold air and the yard plunged into darkness when the sensor clicked off again, leaving him feeling around clumsily under another plant. His fingers brushed over a spider web before coming in contact with something small, flat and metal: the key. He stood tall with a grunt, the sudden movement reactivating the sensor light.

He edged his way back across the porch and slotted the key into the lock just before the front garden plunged back into darkness. With the door now open, he could hear the baby's cries were coming from the nursery.

"Cuddy?" he called out again.

He closed the door and moved across to the living room. No Cuddy. Glancing across the hall, he saw that the dining room and kitchen were dark. He headed down the hall to the nursery, the baby's cries growing louder and louder with each step. The door was open but the light was off, with still no sign of Cuddy.

Alarm settled in as he looked around frantically, his heart beating a little faster. It wasn't like her to leave something as important as a baby unattended like this. Images flashed through his mind. Had she left the baby in the house all alone? Had something happened to her?

Swallowing back the panic rising in his throat, he quickly entered the nursery to check on the baby. The baby was on its back, bed covers askew and her arms and legs flailing as she screamed. Despite her distress, she was otherwise fine. The baby could be dealt with later. He hurried back out into the hallway and down to her bedroom. That, like all the other rooms in the house, was dark and empty. He reached for his cellphone in his pocket to call Wilson, to ask if he'd seen Cuddy.

He stopped when he spotted light flooding out from the bottom of the bathroom door. His heart picked up as he approached it. If Cuddy was in there, why? What was he going to be confronted with? He reached for the handle and slowly pushed the door open.

"Cuddy?"

She was sitting huddled on the floor by the toilet, her knees drawn up to her chest. She looked at him, visibly startled. Relief instantly flooded through him, so sudden and strong he felt lightheaded. But then he noted her appearance. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her face pale. Panic subsided into bewilderment, if not mild anger that she'd given him such a fright, and he stared at her while her mouth formed a few silent vowels like she was too distressed to even speak.

"I can't get her to stop crying," she finally managed. "She's been crying for hours. I've tried feeding her, I've tried changing her, I've tried..." She let out a hitched sob.

He shifted in the doorway and tried to gather his thoughts together. "So, you thought hiding out in the bathroom was going to solve everything."

"I didn't... I can't―"

"What are you doing? Your kid is screaming its head off."

"I know, I know. I--"

"Get out there. Your kid needs you."

"House, I can't--"

"Oh, cut the crap. Pull yourself together. Sobbing your eyes out in the bathroom isn't going to shut the kid up."

" _Nothing_ is shutting her up."

"So? You're just going to give up and cry your eyes out? What are you, five?"

"I don't know what else to do!"

"You're her mother. Go out there and be one to her instead of being a useless crybaby."

"House, don't," Cuddy begged through another sob. "Please. Don't."

He stared at her for another long moment, then looked towards the nursery. What was he supposed to do? Get the baby and bring it to Cuddy? Phone Wilson? Try to deal with the kid himself? He didn't want to deal with it. But he couldn't just leave, either, not while Cuddy was in the current state she was in. He shot Cuddy a sharp, angry look and headed down to the nursery.

He flipped the light on and stripped his coat off, tossing it across to the rocking chair. He moved over to the crib and hooked his cane over the safety bar. The baby's arms and legs flailed as he picked it up, its mouth wide with gums exposed and its face bright red.

"Come on, shut up," he muttered, then rolled his eyes. Like the baby would understand anything he said. He held it out from him, turning one way and then another. He took a step to the changing table but changed his mind and lifted the baby up until it was resting up against his collarbone, its face pressed into his shoulder. He jerked his head away at the volume of the kid's screaming right next to his ear and he started patting its back awkwardly. The crying halted for a moment and he glanced down to see the baby with its mouth latched onto its tiny fist, sucking hungrily. When the baby realised nothing was coming out of it, she launched into a new round of screaming.

House limped out into the hallway and down to the bathroom. Cuddy was still crouched down on the floor. "Your kid is starving," he told her.

She wiped her eyes. "I've tried feeding her. She won't take to my nipple."

"Probably because you're not trying hard enough," he argued angrily over the top of the baby. He turned his head sharply away again as another scream sounded right in his ear. "Do something about your kid. Pull yourself together. She needs to be fed."

"House, I can't--"

"Do you _want_ your kid to starve?" he exploded. "Is that what you want?"

The baby's wails echoed in the bathroom while Cuddy peered up at him with a distraught look on her face. House glared back until she gave a subdued nod of understanding. She scooted stiffly from the wall and struggled to her feet with a pained grunt, clutching her lower stomach as though holding it would ease the discomfort of her surgical scar. Another wave of relief flooded through him as Cuddy reached for the baby. He handed it over and let Cuddy pass, following her down the hall to the living room.

Cuddy swiped up a diaper cloth draped over the arm of the couch and took a seat on the armchair. The baby's screams was rapidly reaching white noise level. House fretfully rubbed his forehead while Cuddy lifted her sweater to expose her breast, sniffing.

"I can't do this," she sobbed when the baby failed to latch and burst into a new round of wailing. "I can't. I can't do this. Breastfeeding hurts too much."

"It's called breaking your nipples in. I'd offer to help with those kinky nipple clamps you keep by the bed, except something tells me now's not an appropriate time to be getting any hot nipple action."

"She's not getting any milk, House. Nothing is coming out when she feeds."

He motioned to her breasts. "They're pretty engorged. Means something has to come out." He suddenly remembered the breast pump that he'd seen on the dining table the last time he'd been here.

He stepped back into the hall without any further word, clutching his bad thigh as he crossed over to the dining room and into the kitchen. He rummaged around in the cupboards until he unearthed the breast pump still in its box. He spent the next five minutes assembling the pump on the counter according to the instructions and took the contraption out to Cuddy. She was up, pacing with the baby against her shoulder. Cuddy was still crying; she wiped her eyes and cheeks in between patting the baby's back.

"Here," he said. He put the pump on the coffee table. "Express. Get as much milk out as you can and feed it to the kid in a bottle."

"But what about--"

"Give it to me," he cut in, reaching out for Cuddy to hand the baby over.

"But..."

"Just do it. Hurry up before I change my mind."

Cuddy gave him a teary, guilty look as he took the baby from her. He limped back into the hall, leaving Cuddy to express on her own. Reaching her bedroom, he shut the door and unclipped his cellphone from his belt.

"Come on," he said to the baby irritably, grimacing each time a particularly loud scream reverberated against his eardrum. He pressed the speed dial for Wilson's number and slapped the phone to his ear. "You need to get over here," he said when Wilson answered after the fourth ring. He was surprised at how shaky his voice sounded.

"Is that... a baby I hear?"

"No, it's the latest computer game I bought. Of course it's a baby."

"You're at Cuddy's?" Wilson sounded surprised.

"Yeah."

"You okay? You sound--"

"I'm fine," House snapped. He wasn't interested in explaining anything, so he jumped straight to the point: "Cuddy's just had a major meltdown in the bathroom and I'm left with a screaming troll that won't shut up."

"Is Cuddy okay?"

"What does the word 'meltdown' indicate to you?"

"Depends on your idea of what a meltdown is."

"Crying in the bathroom. Leaving the kid screaming and starving for god knows how long."

"What's she doing now?"

"Decompressing the pressure valves in her milk factory with a breast pump. Still sobbing her eyes out. Look, just get your ass over here."

"Okay. I'll be there in fifteen, twenty tops."

He shut the phone and tossed it across to the bed, then hoisted the baby higher against his shoulder. "Come on," he said. "Come on. Shut up. You're giving me a headache."

The baby arched its back, a fist flying into his cheek, and House did the first thing he could think of to make the baby quieten down: he stuck his finger in its mouth. She latched onto it right away and began furiously sucking. Just like when she'd tried sucking on her fist, she let go and let out another ear-piercing wail when she realised nothing was coming out.

"God, you're persistent," he muttered. He shifted the baby across to his other shoulder and began pacing the room, wishing Wilson would hurry up. Another ten minutes passed before he heard Cuddy calling out and House walked back to the living room, shoving the baby gratefully into Cuddy's arms. Cuddy had stopped crying but she looked pale and exhausted.

"Do something with that kid's mouth before my head explodes. How much did you get out?"

Cuddy held up a bottle of pale, slightly yellow-tinged breast milk. "About three ounces."

He nodded and ran a hand over his face, his other hand clutching his bad leg again. Cuddy twisted the nipple onto the bottle and the baby stopped crying in favour of drinking the moment it was pushed into its mouth. The immediate silence, save for the hungry sucking and quiet gasping sounds the baby made in between gulps, was heavenly. He dug into his pocket for his Vicodin.

Cuddy looked back up to him. Her eyes had brimmed with fresh tears and House sighed with dread at the prospect of having to deal with more of her emotions. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Just feed your kid."

He sagged against the couch as he tossed a pill into his mouth, listening for Wilson while the baby continued gobbling from the bottle. About ten minutes later, the doorbell rang and House jumped straight to his feet and made a beeline for the door.

"Good," he greeted Wilson. "You deal with the rest. Now I can leave."

Wilson frowned and peered into the house. "Sounds all quiet on the western front."

"If all wars could reach a ceasefire with artificial nipples, there'd be no need for weapons of mass destruction," House agreed. He beckoned Wilson into the house and shut the door.

"Hey, Cuddy," Wilson said, poking his head around the living room doorway. "Everything okay?"

House couldn't see Cuddy from where he was standing and he didn't hear her reply. He assumed she nodded when Wilson turned back to him, his hands pushed into his jacket pockets.

"What happened?" Wilson asked quietly.

"I told you what happened."

"Everything seems pretty calm now. Admittedly, Cuddy looks--"

"Like crap."

"Well... yes. Baby's quiet, though. A far cry from how she sounded on the phone."

"A far cry. You're funny. Not. I'm outta here." He stepped around Wilson to fetch his coat and cane from the nursery, and his phone from Cuddy's room. When he came back into the hall with his coat shrugged on, he saw Wilson sitting on the armrest of the couch, watching Cuddy. The baby had drained most of the bottle and was now asleep in Cuddy's arms. Cuddy was staring down at the baby with an expression House couldn't quite discern. Tiredness or sadness, or possibly resentment.

He opened his mouth to announce that he was leaving but as Wilson murmured something to Cuddy and leaned forward to touch her knee while she wiped a tear from her cheek, House decided against it. He'd done more than his share. He was still unnerved and a little shaken up from the whole ordeal. But it wasn't his business now. It was Wilson's. Wilson was way better at dealing with this stuff than he was.

He faced the door and opened it, heading out into the frosty cold night.

* * *

House stepped out of exam room two and slapped the file onto the desk as he passed the nurses station. He quickly signed out and pushed his way through the glass doors to the lobby. Clinic rotation was done and he had an entire afternoon to kill. Which meant he had to find something else to do to take his mind off what had happened at Cuddy's place the night before.

When he'd gotten home, he'd downed two glasses of bourbon while trying to block the evening out with Conan O'Brien's distrustful, caricature face on the TV. He'd retired to bed sometime after midnight but didn't end up falling asleep for several hours. Waking up in the morning had been difficult – his eyes had felt scratchy with tiredness and his whole body weary and knotted up. As the day progressed, he hadn't felt much better; the only thing that kept him feeling reasonably alert was strong black coffee and lots of it.

"House."

He glanced over his shoulder as he reached the elevator and saw Wilson approaching. He pressed the button impatiently to summon the elevator to the lobby faster. He knew Wilson was going to bring the baby or Cuddy, or both, up. House wasn't in the mood to talk about either.

"Had lunch?" Wilson asked when he reached House's side.

"Not yet."

"Hungry?"

"You only ask me that when you're trying to bribe me."

"I have way more tricks up my sleeve than just dangling a reuben in front of your face like a bone to a dog."

"What do you want?" House snapped.

The elevator doors opened and after a few people exited, he stepped inside and pressed the button to the fourth floor. Wilson trailed in after him. "Cuddy wanted me to pass on her thanks to you for being there last night."

"Pass on the message that I'm not interested."

"Knowing Cuddy, she probably wouldn't have called anyone for help if you hadn't showed up."

"Yeah. I'm a real lifesaver."

The doors slid closed. "So, what made you decide to see her?"

"Bad judgement."

"Based on what?"

"Doesn't matter why I went to see her."

"Admit it – you care."

"Hey, now." House threw Wilson a dirty look. "Don't start using offensive words like that around me or I'll have to start washing your mouth out with soap."

The elevator reached the fourth floor and the doors opened. He stepped out, Wilson still following him. "You had the situation under control."

"You weren't there when Cuddy was freaking out in the bathroom. You also didn't have to deal with a kid screaming right in your ear for almost half an hour."

"Try three hours. That was how long Eva was apparently crying until you showed up."

Reaching his office, House threw the door open and walked across to his desk. He picked up a pile of letters that had been delivered during his clinic rotation and started sorting through them. He tossed the first few letters into the trash and glanced up when he realised Wilson was standing in the middle of his office, his hands on his hips.

"What?" House demanded.

"Admit it," Wilson repeated. "You care."

"About what? My mail? I don't give a crap about my mail." He held up another envelope and waved it before sending it sailing into the trash.

"About Cuddy. That's why you've been acting like such a jerk this past week. You're worried."

"I'm acting like a jerk because my leg hurts."

"No, you act like a jerk on a twenty-four hour basis, but you act like a complete jerk when something matters to you."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that your priorities have changed and you're trying to pretend they haven't."

"My priorities are exactly the same as they always were."

"Right," Wilson agreed dryly. "Which explains why you were at Cuddy's place last night, trying to help her cope with the baby instead of telling her to deal with it. Or better yet, not going at all."

"What does it matter to you what my priorities are?"

"Because whether you like it or not, Eva is your daughter. You must feel something about that."

"Nope. I cleverly don't have things like feelings."

"So, why'd you stick around last night?"

"Leaving a starving baby in the company of a woman who can't get her act together to feed it would've been illogical."

"Except, according to you, you don't care about Cuddy and you don't care about Eva, which makes your argument about what's logical _illogical_."

"Do you really think repeating the kid's name is going to make me suddenly care?"

"You wouldn't have shown up in the first place if you didn't care, House."

He tossed another letter in the trash. "Whatever. Point is, if Cuddy can't cope, that's her problem. Besides, she's got you. You love fussing around people who can't stop crying. Why would she need me?"

"Because you matter to her."

House stared at Wilson for a moment, then looked down. "Well, that's stupid of her."

"And she matters to you."

"Only I matter to me."

Wilson sighed. "House, she's not coping."

"She'll get over it. It's just hormones. She'll be fine in a week or two."

"And what if she isn't?"

House dropped the last letter in the trash. "She'll be fine."


	3. Went Too Far And Came Too Close

The sun was setting as House exited the hospital and headed across the parking lot. The bright, sunny day had done little to curb the bitter February frost and House immediately cranked the heat up to high the moment he started his car. The only plans he had were to grab a pizza and some beer on the way home.

He pulled out onto the road, merging into the swelling rush hour traffic that crawled down Prospect Avenue. He turned on the radio; WGBO FM's Afternoon Jazz segment and the mellow tones of saxophones and rhythm guitars kept him company on his way down Main Street, until he turned into a shop-lined road several blocks away from his apartment. He stopped by the pizzeria on the corner and ordered himself a large supreme, then ducked into the adjacent liquor store to grab some beer. Fifteen minutes later, he was back in his car to continue home.

After his conversation with Wilson earlier in the day, he'd determinedly pushed Cuddy and the baby from his thoughts. But now that he was alone and with little to do while stuck in traffic, his mind wandered back to the night before. Cuddy huddled in the bathroom crying, the baby screaming in her crib, the panic he'd felt when he'd been unable to find Cuddy – all of them replayed like a camera reel in his head.

Reaching a stop light, House stared ahead of him with his hands braced on the steering wheel. That same uneasy feeling he'd been having ever since Cuddy had gone into labour crept, subtle and quiet, into the pit of his gut. At the next set of lights, he swung around to head back in the direction he'd just come.

A little over twenty minutes later, he pulled up outside Cuddy's house. He killed the engine and peered through the fogged window at her place. He was being stupid; he had no reason to be concerned because last night had simply been Cuddy having a meltdown brought on by hormones and tiredness. Despite himself, however, he climbed out of the car, leaving his pizza and beer on the back seat.

When he reached the front door, he hesitated before knocking. Aside from the quiet hum of the television, he couldn't hear any sign of the baby crying. Within less than a minute of waiting, he heard footsteps approaching the door. The lock rattled and the doorknob turned.

"House?"

"I was the last time I checked," he replied. He assessed Cuddy quickly. Her hair was tied back in an unkempt knot and she was dressed in sweatpants and a sweater that came over her wrists. She looked tired and flat.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was just in the neighbourhood."

She gave him a disbelieving look. "You're never 'just in the neighbourhood'."

"Well, I am now. Gonna let me in?"

He shifted uncomfortably under her incredulous gaze. She slowly stepped back and held the door open for him. "Do you want a drink? Or...?"

He shook his head as she closed the door behind him. "Not staying long." He paused, cocking a listening ear in the direction of the nursery. "Where's the kid?"

"She's asleep." Cuddy crossed her arms around her middle. "Look, House, about last night. I'm... I'm sorry about what happened. I was just being--"

"Pathetic? I know. You're a new mom. Being pathetic is bound to happen."

She ran her hand over her face. She turned to the living room and House followed her until he was standing in the doorway while she took a seat on the couch. The breast pump was still on the coffee table, as well as the cloth diaper strewn across the armchair. More clutter had built up since the previous night, too: screwed up tissues, baby wipes, an opened package of diapers, a few glasses, a coffee mug, a few dirty plates. Everywhere he looked was disorderly or untidy.

"Nice interior decorating."

"This place is a mess, I know, I'll get to it eventually. Just..." She got back to her feet and started gathering things together.

"That wasn't a cue to start cleaning."

"It'll only take a minute. Might as well do it while Eva's asleep."

"Sit down."

"You sure you don't want a drink?"

"Sit _down_. Do you think I give a crap about how messy your place is?"

" _I_ care."

"Why? You have a kid. Mess happens."

"Yes, but... It shouldn't be so difficult to stay on top of simple cleaning. It's not like I have family or anything."

House frowned. "What, your kid's not your family?"

"No. I mean, yes. Yes, of course she is. But she's just a baby. And this is all my mess and you'd think I'd be able to get it together enough to wash a few damn plates or put the damn diapers away." She let out a heavy sigh as she placed the things she'd started to clean up back on the coffee table and sank down on the couch again. "I'm not a messy person. I don't know what's wrong with me lately."

"It's called... Now, wait. I know this one." House pressed his finger to his chin in mock thought. "It's something to do with newborns and never having one before... Oh!" He snapped his fingers. "New mom. I think that's what they call them, anyway."

Cuddy picked up a small stuffed toy from the corner of the table and fiddled with it absently. "But Eva's not a newborn anymore. Not really. She's almost three weeks old. I should be used to this by now."

"If you honestly think it's as easy as that, then I might just have to point and laugh at how much you're kidding yourself."

She turned her head up to him sharply. "What would you know, House? The only living being you've ever looked after is a rat."

"Human baby and a rat. Can't really compare the two. Well, except that one's a pest and the other is a rodent."

"Eva is not a pest."

"Small enough to be a rodent, though. A very big rodent. Give it a few months and the kid'll be eating everything off the floor like one."

"She's not a rodent, either," Cuddy replied testily.

"Maybe you're the rodent, then." He gestured to the mess. "Seeing as you're living like one."

Cuddy rubbed her face and got back to her feet. She moved to stand in front of him. "House, I'm really not in the mood. Why are you here?"

He'd hoped Cuddy wasn't going to ask that question. Of course he wasn't going to tell her the truth. "Part-time pest, remember?"

"Well, I'm about two seconds away from phoning the exterminator guy."

"Oh, come on."

She threw her arms out. "Are you here to poke into my business? To mock me? To point out how much of a mess my place is and how untogether I am? Because if that's why you're here, I don't want to hear it. I don't need confirmation from you that I'm a... that I'm..."

"What? A bad mother?"

Cuddy inhaled sharply.

"Well, that's what you're expecting me to say, isn't it?"

Her expression turned stony. "Seeing you've said it to me before, I don't know what would be stopping you from saying it again. Except now you have proof."

"What? Because your place is messy?"

"Yes, because it's messy," she snapped. "Because _I'm_ a mess. Because you saw me lose control of my emotions in the hospital. You saw me crying my eyes out in the bathroom last night. Why the hell else would you be here? To tell me everything's going to be okay? You don't care about anyone's feelings. You love poking at people's weaknesses, most of all mine."

He frowned in bewilderment. "I didn't come here to poke anything. Except I seem to have poked some kind of sore spot."

"You're always poking my sore spots. You get a sadistic pleasure out of seeing just how far you can push."

The baby interrupted with a loud hitch of breath in the nursery. It then started crying in earnest, but Cuddy made no move to go and tend to it.

"Your kid's crying."

"I know she's crying."

"Are you going to do anything about it?"

"Of course I am. I'm not a neglectful mother."

"You sure about that?"

The look Cuddy gave him made House realise he'd gone one step too far. "Get out," she said in an icy voice.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that."

She pointed at the door. " _Get out_."

He flinched. He backed up against the door frame as Cuddy shoved past him and heard her angry footsteps retreating down the hall. The baby's cries faltered but escalated into crying again a moment later.

House stayed pressed up against the door frame, pinned there by guilt. He eyed the front door. He knew he should leave but the baby's crying still wasn't letting up. Between an irritating concern for the baby and an equally irritating sense of remorse for what he'd said, he felt compelled to at least make sure everything was okay.

Pushing away from the door frame, he hesitantly made his way towards the nursery. He stopped just inside the doorway to see Cuddy seated on the rocking chair with the baby.

"Come on," she muttered as she tried to guide the baby to her breast. "Come on. Shut up. Please, just _shut up_."

The baby wailed hysterically as it tried to latch and failed. "Oh, for god's sake, Eva, _stop it_ ," Cuddy commanded and House held his breath as he watched her yank the baby away and shove it roughly across to her other breast.

"You'll hurt your kid if you keep doing that."

Cuddy's head snapped up. "I thought I told you to get out."

"Not when you're treating the baby like a football."

"I'm not. I'm just--"

"Frustrated, I know. Why do you think your kid is still screaming? It's not because there's anything wrong with it. It's because of you."

"I'm not going to sit here and listen to you tell me that I'm a bad mother."

"Well, you just said your kid's not a pest and now you're treating it like it is. Try saying to me that you're not a bad mother when your child's got brain damage from being shaken almost to death."

"I'm not going to shake my child!"

"But you clearly want to. Which means you--"

"Of course I want to!" Cuddy shouted. "This kid is driving me fucking insane."

The silence that followed was impenetrable, even despite the baby's continual cries. Horrified realisation swept over Cuddy's face. She looked down at the baby. "Oh, God. I'm sorry," she gasped. "Oh God, I'm sorry, Eva. Mommy's so sorry."

House gripped the door frame and steeled himself against a sudden inexplicable urge to snatch the baby away. "The kid doesn't care how sorry you are. The only way you're going to shut it up is if you feed it. So, pull yourself together."

Cuddy nodded numbly and after a few more attempts at getting the baby to latch, the screaming was replaced with the hungry sounds of the baby sucking. House sagged against the doorway in relief while Cuddy stroked the baby's head tenderly, her face screwed up with anguish.

"I hope you're satisfied," she said after a pause, looking up at him darkly.

"Me? What did _I_ do? You're the one with the problem, not me."

She pressed her lips into a thin line. House watched her face slowly morph from fierce anger directed at him, to helpless tears as she looked back down to the baby.

He stepped back into the hall to collect himself. He needed to get out of here. He made his way to the door and let himself out into the cold evening. When he reached his car, he climbed in and slammed the door shut. It smelled strongly of pizza, reminding him of the quiet evening he had planned. So much for that; if he went home now, he knew he wouldn't be able to relax.

Just as he was about to turn the engine over, he stopped and looked up at Cuddy's house. He couldn't ignore the niggling feeling that Cuddy couldn't be left alone with the baby, at least not tonight. After a few moments of debating with himself, he got back out of the car. He grabbed the pizza and the beer from the back seat and made his way back to the house.

Letting himself inside, he dumped the pizza on the coffee table. He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it on the couch. He wasn't particularly hungry anymore but food was a distraction. He went out to the kitchen and searched until he came across the cupboard where Cuddy kept the plates. He pulled two out and took them to the living room.

He was hefting a slice of pizza onto his plate when Cuddy appeared in the doorway, the baby propped up against her shoulder while she patted its back. Cuddy looked cried out and exhausted. "What are you doing?"

"You finished feeding?" he replied.

"Yes, but--"

He pointed to the pizza. "Eat. There's enough for both of us."

Cuddy darted her eyes between him and the pizza. "I'm not hungry."

"Don't care." He nudged the box towards her. "Eat."

"But--"

"Just shut up and eat."

Cuddy hesitated. She moved across the room and dragged a brightly coloured play mat out from the corner. It was decorated with images of cartoon jungle animals, with a pink ridge that arched over the top with rattles and plastic toys dangling down from it. She put the baby on the mat and took a seat on the armchair.

"I'm not hungry," she repeated.

"I don't care."

"Pizza isn't good for breast milk."

"Fine. Go make yourself something."

Cuddy shook her head. "I'm too tired."

"So, eat some pizza. It's not going to kill you. It's definitely not going to kill your kid. You can't breastfeed and not eat."

She seemed to be debating with herself whether to give in or not. As House reached for a second slice, realising he was starving now that he was eating, Cuddy took up a plate and squared a slice onto it. "Thanks," she said quietly as she took a small bite.

They ate in silence while the baby kicked on the mat. House was happy not to talk. He wasn't in the mood to at all now. He decided to see what was on television to fill up the tense silence. Cuddy was still picking at her first slice when he finished his third one. He cracked a beer open just as Cuddy set her plate down on the coffee table.

"I'm thinking of going back to work," she announced while he dug up the remote control from between the couch cushions.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her.

"I figure maybe I'll be able to manage better if I have something to keep myself occupied," she continued. "I won't be such a mess if I have some structure back in my life."

"Your kid is barely a month old, Cuddy," he replied incredulously.

"I know. But I could put her in the hospital day care. Or hire a nanny."

"What, and have someone else raise your kid for you?"

She frowned. "No."

"Because that's essentially what you'd be doing."

"Lots of mothers go back to work after having a child," she retorted. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Nothing wrong with it, no," House agreed. "If you're doing it for the right reasons. Which you wouldn't be."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He took a slow pull on his beer. "Do you really think going back to work is going to miraculously solve your bonding issues?"

"I'm good at what I do at work."

"But not at home."

Cuddy fixed him with a hard look. "I think going back to work would be good for me."

"For you, maybe. But what about your kid?"

"I'm competent at my job. It would boost my self-confidence. And boosting my confidence would be beneficial to the baby. It would be good for both of us."

He studied her face. "Why'd I bother helping you get pregnant with that thing if you're only going to stick it on the backburner of your career?"

"She's not a 'thing'," Cuddy snapped.

"She might as well be if your career comes first."

"Of course it doesn't come first."

"By going back to work in favour of being a mother – that means that, technically, it does."

Cuddy crossed her arms defensively. "What would you know?"

"I know enough to know that you're being an idiot."

"Only you would think a woman wanting to have children and a career is an idiot."

"No," he replied after downing another gulp of his beer. "That's not what I think. I think you are being an idiot. See the difference?"

"Because I want to continue with my career while raising my child?"

"No. Because you want to continue with your career to get away from your child."

"I do not."

"You still have over two months of maternity leave. Going back to work before the leave is up is premature. Boosting your confidence? Doing something you're competent at? The only way you're going to boost your confidence and competence as a mother is if you're actually being a mother. You should be around to wipe your baby's ass, not wiping bureaucratic ones."

"House--"

"I get that you feel guilty about wanting to shake your baby to death," he continued, ignoring whatever Cuddy was about to say, "but the fact is, you're that kid's mother and you can't just go running to the sanctuary of your job because you feel like you can't cope."

"That's not..." Cuddy gave him a confounded look before turning away. He watched her eyes flicker towards the baby still kicking happily on the floor before she pressed her hand to her face. "You're a real bastard sometimes," she said quietly.

"Maybe so, but I know I'm right."

She didn't reply. House watched her gazing at the baby, clearly lost in thought, and as much as he wanted to keep arguing with her, he decided to let her mull over what they'd just talked about. He located the remote and switched on the TV.

Only when the baby started getting agitated did Cuddy get up from her seat. "I'm going to give Eva a bath," she said once she scooped the baby up. He kept a listening ear out all the while that Cuddy was gone, ready to intervene if need be. Almost an hour passed by the time Cuddy returned to the room, minus the baby.

"She's asleep," she announced tiredly.

"That was pretty easy," House replied, keeping his eyes trained on the TV.

"She's not always difficult."

"Maybe you should keep that in mind every time you get a stupid idea about returning to work."

He glanced towards her when Cuddy didn't respond. She was staring down at her hands as she perched beside him on the armrest of the couch. "Do you think I'm a bad mother?"

Her question caught him by surprise. He then sighed. He didn't want to rehash this subject, not tonight. "I think you're tired and run down."

"I feel more than tired and run down," she replied softly.

"That's normal. You're a new mom."

"Is it normal to feel like you're drowning?"

House was suddenly aware that he was venturing into territory that was way out of his league. Wilson was much better at counselling people on their feelings than he was. "Only if you're doing it in a hot bikini."

"House, I'm serious."

He fell silent. "I think if you have to question if it's normal, then you already know that it isn't."

She nodded slightly and wiped her nose with the back of her hand as she sniffed. "I feel like I'm drowning. Like... I can't breathe. I'm supposed to be happy. This is supposed to be the most joyous time in my life. But... I hate her. Even just the sight of her..." She let out a soft sob and covered her face with her hands. "I'm such a horrible mother. I don't deserve to even be a mother."

House stared at her. "Don't be stupid," he replied awkwardly.

He didn't know where to look while Cuddy became overwhelmed with tears. He considered getting up and leaving the room so Cuddy could cry on her own. He thought about leaving altogether, too. He fidgeted with the beer still in his hand and took a sip he didn't really taste before putting the bottle down. Cuddy seemed inconsolable and in the end he didn't know what else to do except just sit there and listen to her cry.

* * *

House opened Wilson's office door and poked his head in. "Got a minute?"

Wilson looked up from his work. "Sure. What's up?"

House shut the door behind him. Too restless to take a seat, he passed the chair opposite Wilson's desk and went straight for the glass door that looked out over balcony. The day was dark and bleak; the glass was dotted in a postmodern pattern of raindrops zigzagging down the window. "What's the differential for a woman who says she hates her baby?"

Wilson paused. "Have you landed a case in the last few hours that I don't know about, or are we talking about Cuddy?"

"Hypothetically."

"How hypothetical are we talking?"

"You know, this will go a lot quicker if you just answer my question."

"No. It'll go a lot quicker if you get to the point."

House glanced over his shoulder. "Are you usually this annoying, or are you trying extra hard today?"

"Although deflection is a well-worn coat of yours, it doesn't actually suit you."

"Fine." House turned around with a sigh. "Cuddy."

Wilson frowned. "She says she hates Eva?"

"Direct quote: 'can't stand the sight of her'. End quote."

"You're not... making this up?" Wilson asked suspiciously. "This isn't some kind of twisted projection of resentment towards the fact that you have a daughter and you're refusing to deal with it?"

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Because projection is the well-worn top hat that goes with your deflection coat."

"I dress better than that," House argued.

"Not really. That's been your dress style for as long as I've known you. Anyway." Wilson waved his hand. He frowned in puzzlement. "Why are you coming to me for help on a differential for Cuddy's attitude towards her baby? Thought this wasn't something you cared about."

"I don't wear a caring tie, unlike you. It would clash with the rest of my outfit."

"Then what's all this about?"

House looked down and stamped his cane on the floor. "It's about the kid's safety."

"You don't think she's safe?"

"Saying you hate your baby and getting angry enough to want to shake it are good reasons to think a kid might not be safe."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything. All parents get frustrated with their kids--"

"Do all parents spend their whole time crying? Or being tired? Or barely able to function?"

"Cuddy's a new mother. Life is tough for new mothers."

"Are we talking tough cookie kind of tough or tough _tough_ kind of tough? 'Cause this is leaning towards the latter kind."

Wilson peered at him in silence for a moment. "Why does this matter to you so much? A few weeks ago, you were adamant that Cuddy would get over it."

"That was a few weeks ago."

"So, what's changed?"

"The fact that Cuddy hasn't."

"That still doesn't explain why you're so involved."

"Intervention doesn't equal involvement."

"Voluntary intervention equals involvement, House. You never voluntarily intervene for anybody unless it's for some nefarious purpose."

"I'm beginning to think you should put your caring tie where your mouth is."

"Just answer the question."

"Not until you answer mine."

He held Wilson's gaze for a long moment until Wilson relented and looked down. "Well, what do you think the issue is?"

"That's not an answer."

"The fact that you're here means you don't need an answer. You're just looking for confirmation, either for or against whatever it is you're thinking." Wilson paused. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking postpartum depression."

"Seriously?"

House nodded.

"Well, from what you're saying, it fits," Wilson replied thoughtfully. "The crying you're talking about. The tiredness."

"The feelings of resentment. Worthlessness," House chimed in. "Hating her baby..."

"When did she say that?"

"A few nights ago."

Wilson tapped his pen against his desk blotter. "What do you think we should do?"

"Actually, that's why I'm here. I was thinking more along the lines of you doing something about it."

Wilson blinked. "Why me?"

"You deal with depressed people all the time."

"You've been dealing with Cuddy."

"Hardly."

"And Eva's your kid."

"Not my kid," House replied sharply. "My genes, yes. My kid, no."

"Which neatly brings me back to my question." Wilson sat forward again. "Why are you intervening if you don't care?"

"See these pants?" House gestured to his jeans. "They're my apathy pants."

"Well, you obviously got dressed in the dark because they're clashing with the reason you're in my office."

"No, you're just colourblind and have no fashion sense." He faced back to the glass door. He let out another sigh and frowned. "So, what now?"

"Well, it's like I've been saying all along: she needs support. Someone to be there for her. She might even need medication for a little while."

"No way in hell Cuddy would admit she needs medication."

"A trait she and you share," Wilson agreed dryly. "Stubbornness. Anyway. I've answered your question. Your turn to answer mine."

He looked over his shoulder at Wilson, who was peering at him with interest. A memory of standing in the doorway while Cuddy shouted at the baby entered his mind. He vividly recalled the inexplicable feeling of protectiveness for the baby that had overcome him when he realised that Cuddy could harm her.

"Seeing Cuddy almost shake that kid..." he began.

He looked at the office door. A second later he began striding across to it. He'd gotten the advice he'd come here for. He didn't owe Wilson any explanations.

"House...?" he heard Wilson say in bewilderment.

He stepped out into the hall, slamming the door behind him.


	4. Sailing For Another To Guide Us To Land

House sat in his car and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he looked up at Cuddy's house. After his talk with Wilson, the rest of the day had been slow; all he'd been able to think about was what they'd discussed. After clocking out at 5pm, he didn't allow himself to think about it as he got in his car and crawled through the rush hour traffic to Cuddy's place.

He slipped himself a couple of Vicodin and climbed out of the car. He headed up the path and knocked on the front door, rubbing his aching leg. When Cuddy opened the door, he was greeted with the shrill sound of the baby crying and the sight of Cuddy jiggling her up and down with barely suppressed impatience.

"I see you're having fun."

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"Is this a bad time?"

"It's always a bad time."

"Want me to leave?"

Cuddy fixed him with an assessing look before she stepped back and pulled the door open wider for him. He entered and shrugged out of his coat, watching Cuddy the whole time.

"She's been crying for over two hours," Cuddy explained. "She's been fed. She's been changed. There shouldn't be anything wrong with her and yet..." Cuddy let out a frustrated grunt. "Eva, _shush_. Mommy is trying her hardest, just stop crying."

He hung his coat up. "Pre-verbal kids don't tend to respond to barked orders."

Cuddy reeled around and glared at him. "I'm not barking orders at her."

"Telling her to shut up. Sounds like an order to me."

The baby let out another ear-piercing shriek and Cuddy jerked her head away. "Eva!" she bellowed. The loudness of her voice startled the baby, who started crying even harder.

House took note of the way the baby was behaving. "Look at your kid," he said. "What's she doing?"

"She's screaming. What does it look like she's doing?"

"No, Cuddy. _Look_ at her. Look at the way she's arching her back and trying to draw her legs up. She's in pain. She has colic."

Cuddy peered down at the baby. She lifted a hand and pressed it to her face, shielding her eyes.

"For God's sake, Cuddy. Pull yourself together. Your kid's got colic. It's not the end of the world."

"I'm her mother. I'm supposed to be able to recognise things like that."

"You're also a doctor," he agreed. "Colic's pretty hard to miss."

Cuddy opened her mouth, an anguished look on her face, and House braced himself to hear her shout something at him. Instead, she pulled the baby from her shoulder and held her out to him. "Get this thing away from me."

House raised his brows. "Your kid's a 'thing' now?"

"Get it away from me before I throw her."

He was stunned at Cuddy's words. He swung straight into action, however; he tossed his cane aside and stepped in, taking the baby from Cuddy's hands. She turned and headed straight down the hall; House heard the bathroom door slam shut.

"Great," he muttered. He looked down at the distressed baby and then around the hall. His eyes landed on various things – the stroller, the baby harness on the dining table, the brightly coloured rocker. None of those things were going to help. He lifted the baby up to his shoulder and limped into the living room. He sat on the couch just as her whole body contorted in another spasm of pain.

"All right," he said impatiently. "That's enough." He forced her into a sitting position on his good thigh until he had her sitting with her spine erect. Her arms continued to flail, her hands balled into tight fists, and her screaming persisted.

"Shh," he shushed, starting to feel a little panicky. "Shh. That's enough. Shh."

He spotted a pacifier on the other end of the couch. He scooted across to it, grabbed it and worked the nipple into her mouth. He held it there until she latched onto it and began to suck furiously. A few moments later, she let out a burp, along with a stream of white vomit that splashed over his forearm and onto his jeans. Her cries immediately toned down to an irritable whimper.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath. He realised someone was by the doorway and he turned his head sharply towards it to see Cuddy standing there. She had a devastated look on her face.

"Your kid vomited on me," he said.

"I'll... get you a cloth diaper," she replied absently.

He looked back down to the baby. Her whines had quietened even further and her eyes were drooping shut. She hiccuped and another small string of vomit escaped her mouth, the pacifier tumbling down onto the couch. House wiped her chin and mouth with the bib fastened around her neck and grabbed the pacifier again. She gobbled on it greedily but sank straight back towards sleep.

"Here," Cuddy said, holding a cloth diaper. He took it and dabbed at his jeans. "I've been trying to quieten her for hours and you have her settled in less than twenty minutes," she said in a small voice.

"So?" he replied.

"So? I'm her mother."

"Hate to break it to you, but you're also human."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're good with her."

"No. I'm just more objective than you are."

"You handle her better than I do."

"Cuddy, cut the crap."

She dropped her arms to her side with a defeated sigh. She then held them out. "I'll put her to bed." House lifted the baby up into Cuddy's hands and resumed wiping the vomit away. Some had spilled onto the couch, too, which he cleaned off as best as he could. Once he was done, he tossed the cloth diaper on the coffee table.

Cuddy came back into the room a few minutes later and sank down beside him on the couch. He took in the sight of her: her tired, red eyes, her sallow skin, the slump of her shoulders. "Go to bed," he said.

"Can't," she replied wearily. "She's due for a feed in an hour."

"Got any milk expressed?"

"In the fridge."

"I'll take care of it. Go to bed."

Cuddy looked at him in surprise. "What? Why?"

He shrugged awkwardly. "Because you're barely functioning. And a barely functioning mother makes a pretty ineffective one."

"No," she said. "I mean, why are you offering to do that?"

"I just told you."

She stared at him. "You don't have to."

"I know I don't."

It felt like a lifetime had passed by the time Cuddy slowly stood up. She wrung her hands together. "You'll need to heat the milk to room temperature. Best way to do it is boil the kettle and warm the bottle in a jug of hot water when it's time for her feed. Change her diaper before you feed her."

He nodded, wondering if he'd officially lost his mind. "Go to bed."

"And then she has a play time for an hour, or until she feels tired."

"Go to bed, Cuddy."

She turned to leave but faced back to him. "You sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll live. And if I don't, I'll blame you. _Go to bed_."

He watched her leave the room. Once he heard her bedroom door close, he listened to the silence in the house. It was so quiet, it was almost deafening. A dog barked somewhere in the neighbourhood and a car rolled by outside. He became aware of a soft tapping sound and realised the noise was rain hitting the windows.

He gave himself a mental shake as he grabbed up the remote and switched the TV on.

* * *

It was close to 7pm when the baby announced she was awake. House left the TV running to go into the nursery, transferring the baby to the changing table. He didn't realise until he had her diaper undone and was confronted with a runny bowel movement, that he had no clue whatsoever how to deal with a baby. How was it possible that something so small and defenceless could be equally intimidating?

He wrestled with the pull tabs once he slid a clean diaper underneath her. It took several tries to get the diaper fitted around her squirming body and even then it was too loose. Changing a diaper was a simple task and yet House couldn't recall a time when he'd felt as clumsy as he did right now. The baby's persistent crying made the job all the more disconcerting; she cried even louder when he carried her out to the living room and set her down on the play mat.

"Hold your horses," he told her. "It's coming. I don't have the stuff on tap like your mom does."

He left her to cry while he went to the kitchen. Again, the instructions Cuddy had given him were simple enough – heat a bottle in a jug of boiling water. Yet he couldn't help feeling completely at a loss for what he was doing. It didn't help that he wasn't familiar with Cuddy's kitchen. He considered waking her up to make her deal with the baby. But in the end, he got it together and warmed a bottle of milk.

"I can tell already," he said as he picked up the baby and set her on his lap, "that you're going to be a bossy, headache-inducing nightmare just like your mom." He had no idea how to comfortably hold a squirming, screaming baby and feed it at the same time, so he stuck the bottle in her mouth in hope that it would quieten her.

It worked; she immediately began sucking with her eyes closed. He began to tire at holding her at such an awkward angle and eased her into the crook of his arm.

He tried not to think about what he was doing. He tried hardest of all to ignore that having the kid in his arms wasn't half as bad as he imagined it to be. He caught himself staring down at the baby in curiosity at one point. He snapped his attention back to the television.

She drained the bottle within fifteen minutes. After he burped her, he set her down on the play mat and resumed his seat on the couch. She stayed on the floor for about an hour, gazing up at the bright coloured toys hanging over her. House got up once to move the baby onto her front when she started getting restless; he watched in fascination at the way she jerkily looked around the room, eyes wide and her head bobbing against the strain of still developing neck muscles. She really wasn't a difficult baby, he thought to himself. She was no more demanding than any other six-week old infant. Any logical person observing the baby would be incredulous as to why Cuddy was struggling so much with her.

The baby eventually started to get cranky. House gathered her up and took her to the nursery. He wrestled with another diaper change and put the baby in the crib. She whined for all of a few minutes before falling to sleep. He went back to the living room with a sense of relief that he'd survived the babysitting ordeal and stretched out on the couch with his shoes kicked off. He found something on TV to watch but ended up dozing off at some point. He startled awake when he felt something nudging his shoulder.

"Hey," Cuddy greeted softly.

He peered up at her with an eye screwed shut, grogginess heavy in his head. The baby was impatiently rooting for a nipple. "What time is it?"

"It's late."

"How late?"

"Past midnight." Cuddy nudged him again to move and he sat up enough to let her take a seat beside him. She lifted her sweater and worked the baby to her breast. "Was Eva okay for you?"

House yawned and scrubbed his face. "Oh, she was a terror. Bossy. Manipulative. Just like you. Like mother, like daughter."

Cuddy gave a wry snort.

"Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've had in as long as I can remember." She glanced at him. "Thanks for staying."

"You can pay me back with obscene sexual favours."

"Good luck with that. I hardly feel sexy, let alone interested in sex."

A retort was on the tip of his tongue but he bit it back. Mentioning sex around Cuddy wasn't the same as it used to be before helping her to get pregnant. He watched the baby feeding, then turned his attention to Cuddy. She was staring off into space at nothing in particular. "You okay?" he asked.

She shook her head and he waited for her to explain. When it became obvious she wasn't going to, he looked away and considered getting up and leaving now she didn't need him for the time being.

"I never thought motherhood would be so hard," Cuddy said in a quiet voice just as he was about to stand up. "I thought motherhood was going to be everything I've ever wanted."

House hesitated and settled back against the couch.

"Everything was going to be perfect," she continued. "I was finally going to have something in my life that so many other people get so easily. Something that mattered to me besides my job. And instead..." She looked down to the baby. "I'm supposed to love this baby. She's supposed to be my world. This isn't what was supposed to happen."

"Not everything happens the way we want it to, Cuddy."

"But some things are supposed to come naturally." She looked across at him. "I thought maternal instincts were natural. I feel like I'm missing something vital, like I'm not programmed right, or..."

"You take care of her. You feed her, you bathe her, you always make sure she has clean clothes."

"That's because I have to. Not because I want to. I'm supposed to want to do all of those things."

"The fact that you do it at all means you're capable."

"You don't get it, House. I feel trapped. I feel like a prisoner. I don't want to stay in the house with her but I'm terrified that if I go out, I'll fall apart in public. I feel like I have nowhere to go."

He studied her face. "You're wrong. I get it."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't, House. You don't even want to have anything to do with this baby. How could you possibly get it?"

"Because I watch you with that kid. I don't have to want to be involved in order to understand what's going on."

"Understand what's going on? What's that supposed to mean? What could you possibly understand that I don't?"

"You're depressed."

She frowned in confusion. "What? No, I'm not."

"Postpartum depression, Cuddy."

She was silent for a moment. "I do not have PPD. I'm just tired. I'm run down, I'm feeling a bit lonely, I--"

"Right. It looks like a duck, it walks like a duck, it even quacks like a duck. But it's not a duck."

"I don't have postpartum depression, House."

"Yet you admit to hating your baby."

Cuddy visibly flinched. She opened her mouth but then turned her head away.

"If you can think of a better explanation, I'm all ears."

"I'm not depressed," she snapped.

"No. You're just miserable 24/7. Crying constantly, convinced you're a failure--"

"Thanks to you."

"You're not bonding with your kid."

"I don't want to bond with her."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Cuddy looked away again, her face pale with the shock of her own words.

"Is that what you want for your kid?" he asked quietly.

"House--"

"Is it?"

Cuddy sniffed and lifted a hand to wipe her cheeks. "I don't know what I want anymore."

"Doubt you want to live with the guilt of knowing you emotionally neglected her."

She let out a soft sob.

"Is that what you want?"

"No." Cuddy looked back to him, her cheeks wet with tears and a clear drizzle of mucus smeared around her nostrils. "No, of course not. But I don't know what to do. I don't..."

House stiffened as she leaned in and buried her face against his shoulder. The baby had finished her feed; now alert and quiet and completely oblivious to her mother's tears. She cooed contentedly, the sound a stark contrast to Cuddy's despair.

Uncertain what else to do, much less say, he let Cuddy lean against him until she was all cried out.

* * *

The sound of pounding on the front door jolted House awake. For a few seconds, he felt disoriented and panicky. He'd been having a vivid dream about the baby, though the details of it immediately began to bleed into a jumbled mesh of indistinguishable images, leaving him with just the remnants of emotional unease. He scrubbed his face with his hands and looked at the clock. 2.14am. What had woken him?

Someone pounding on the door again answered his question. Who on earth would be demanding to be let in at this time of night? He swung out of bed after he downed a couple of Vicodin and limped down the hall. Whoever was knocking was persistent. "All right, I'm coming," he called irritably.

Still half asleep, he didn't register the sound of a baby crying until he yanked the door open to see Cuddy standing with the baby in her arms. The baby was squirming, arching her back as though she was in pain, and Cuddy herself looked like she was on the brink of a meltdown.

House stared at both of them in bewilderment. "Wh--?"

"I didn't know where else to go."

He looked at her dishevelled hair and her pale face, her pyjamas and a grey sweater pulled on over the top. His mind suddenly caught up with what was happening. It was one thing to go to Cuddy's place; it was another thing entirely to have everything invading his apartment, the only sanctuary he had left. "You can't come in here."

"Please. House, please."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I was going to, but I needed to get the hell out of the house. I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Eva, _shut up_." Cuddy gave the baby a jerky shake, which was enough for House. He yanked Cuddy into his apartment, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Why didn't you call me?" he demanded again.

"I thought I could handle her."

"That's your excuse for hightailing it to my apartment in the middle of the night?" The baby's cries weren't letting up and he couldn't shake from his mind the image of Cuddy on the verge of shaking her. He held his hands out. "Give the kid to me."

"I so badly wanted to prove to myself that I could handle her on my own, but the brat just wouldn't shut up--"

"Cuddy, I don't want to hear it. Just give her to me."

Cuddy bundled the baby in his arms, then stood back with her arms wrapped around her middle. He lifted the baby to his shoulder.

"You bring anything? Diapers? Anything?"

"No. I just put her in the car and came over here. I didn't think--"

"You're damn right you didn't." He felt frantic enough with a screaming baby in tow while a distressed Cuddy looked on, but knowing he had nothing for the baby only made him feel even more uptight. As much as he felt like shouting at Cuddy, however, the baby's needs were more important.

Cuddy covered her face with her hands. "That brat's screaming is like torture."

"She's not a brat. She's in pain."

Cuddy didn't seem to be listening to him. "God, Eva, shut _up_."

"Go to my room," he ordered.

"House, this isn't the time to be making--"

"Make like Nike and just do it. You're not going to be any help standing around and complaining about how much you can't stand your own kid's cries."

"I'm not complaining. I'm--"

"Just _go_."

House gave her a hard look until she relented and headed down the hall. He glanced around the living room helplessly. What the hell was he going to do? His eyes landed on the metronome on the mantelpiece. He grabbed the metronome and set it on the coffee table, then sat down on the couch with the baby still up against his shoulder. He fiddled with the weight on the pendulum, adjusting it to 72 beats per minute, the average heart rate of an adult human. The metronome clicked to life once he flicked the pendulum and he shifted the baby down to his lap, forcing her to sit upright.

"Okay, come on," he murmured to the baby, jiggling his good thigh up and down in rhythm with the ticking sound. The baby wailed and batted her fists, drawing her legs up every time she cramped up in pain. But eventually, she began to relax a little, enough so that she was able to pass gas.

"Gross," House told her, pulling a face as the baby let out more wind. "Where are your manners? What's that worn out mother of yours been teaching you? That it's okay to fart on people?"

The baby's cries decreased to a mild whine as her pain eased and House raised his brows when she looked up at him.

"Feeling better? You look like you're feeling better. Better out than in, right?"

The baby hiccuped. A small torrent of white vomit then gushed out of her mouth.

"Nice. That's the gratitude I get for helping you, is it? A technicoloured yawn?" He wiped the vomit away from her chin with her bib. He then smiled slightly as he watched the baby yawn for real. "You're a terror, you know that?"

"Is she asleep?"

House looked over his shoulder. "No. She farted on me a lot, though."

Cuddy managed a small, humourless smile. "What's that ticking sound?"

"Metronome. Babies are like puppies – they respond and relax to sounds that remind them of their mother's heartbeat."

"I never would've thought of that." She paused. "I wish I knew how to settle her the way you do."

"It's not your fault, Cuddy."

She crossed her arms over her chest and House was struck by how fragile she looked. "I don't want to go home."

"Well, you can't stay here."

"I don't think I can stand being alone in the house with her tonight."

"What did I just say, Cuddy?"

The baby whined and House looked down at her. She was close to falling asleep, though the way her brow furrowed indicated that she was still in some discomfort. It was possible she'd wake up again in the night with more gas pain and Cuddy likely wouldn't be in any state to deal with it. He really didn't want either of them to stay in his apartment, however. This was his place, and his only. He looked back over his shoulder at Cuddy.

"You didn't even bring anything," he pointed out. "Staying here makes no sense."

"I could go home and get her bag."

House sighed. He felt wrong making Cuddy leave, if only for the baby's sake. He shook his head. "Look. There's a 7-11 down on the corner. Get what you need from there."

She looked surprised. "I can stay?"

"Only for tonight." He felt a need to stress that point. "Only for tonight."

Cuddy nodded, relief flooding across her face.

"You get the couch. My bed is off-limits."

"What about Eva?"

He thought about that for a moment, looking down at the baby again. She'd nodded off, her head lolled to the side. He leaned forward to stop the metronome. "She can sleep on the floor on a blanket. I've got one in my closet."

He nodded to the closet door behind her. While she fetched a blanket, House pushed the coffee table out of the way with his good leg. Cuddy rounded the couch with a blanket in her hands and she lay it out on the floor. The baby barely stirred as House placed her down onto the blanket.

"You owe me," he said as he stood up. "Big time."

"I don't even know how I'd be able to pay you back."

"Why'd you come here, anyway?"

"I told you. I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

"Going to Wilson would've been the safer option."

"I trust you."

House frowned. "Well, that's stupid of you."

"Probably," she agreed quietly.

He watched Cuddy for a few moments while she looked right back at him. He swallowed as his stomach knotted up with a familiar emotion, the same one that had made him back off from Cuddy all those months ago. He pushed past her to head towards his room.

"House."

He stopped by the hallway.

"Thank you."

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

"Well, what else do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. You're way more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut."

He ignored the hurt look on Cuddy's face and continued down the hall to his bedroom.

* * *

Three weeks passed. House continued going by Cuddy's place almost every afternoon after work. It was becoming routine for him now, to the point where he was sharing dinner with her most nights, as well as sharing the workload of looking after Eva. In fact, he no longer even needed to be let in; the spare key Cuddy kept hidden among the potted plants had joined the rest of his keys on his keyring.

"Bought Chinese," he announced as he let himself in. He held up a bag of food once he hung his coat up and entered the living room.

Cuddy looked up from the armchair. "I was going to make dinner."

"Well, now you don't have to." The baby was on her stomach on the play mat, happily kicking her feet and making excited noises at the thrill of discovering her own voice, while the TV played at a low volume in the background.

"Eva's due for a feed in a minute," Cuddy said as he handed her a container of food.

"She's happy. Eat, then feed her."

"I'm not hungry."

"Don't give me that crap. Eat." He waved the container at her until Cuddy took it with an irritable sigh. He sat down on the couch and began to dig into his food. "Take it you had a bad day, then."

"My day was fine."

"Said with all the enthusiasm of a flat tire."

"Since when have you ever cared what my day is like?"

"Since I noticed your face is resembling that pinched cat's ass look."

She shrugged. "Wasn't a bad day. Just... tiring. All I wanted to do was sleep."

The baby let out a delighted shriek at nothing in particular. House nodded to her. "Eva seems happy."

Cuddy looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

"I think that's the first time I've ever heard you call her by her name."

It was his turn to shrug. "Slip of the tongue." To cover himself up, he added, ""I could call her brat if you'd prefer."

Cuddy gave him a look that was as guilty as it was sharp.

House shovelled some food into his mouth to avoid any further conversation for now. Luckily, Cuddy didn't seem to be in a talkative mood. They ate in silence while Eva kicked around; House watched her in between half-heartedly paying attention to the television. She was over two months old now and becoming gradually aware of the world around her. House couldn't help being fascinated by the process -- how she got so much pleasure out of discovering such simple things like rolling onto her side, or the different noises she could make with her voice. The first time she genuinely smiled at him had affected him in a way he didn't really expect.

Halfway through their meal, Eva began to get restless. Cuddy let out a resigned sigh and stood up. Instead of going to the baby like House expected her to, however, she headed to the kitchen. He listened out for what she was doing while still watching Eva, hearing cupboards opening and closing, the kettle switching on and other movements he couldn't quite decipher. In the end, curiosity won out and he got up to investigate.

He stopped in the kitchen doorway and frowned. "Is that baby formula?"

She looked askance at him. "Yes."

"Why?"

She tipped a scoop of formula into a bottle. "I've decided I've had enough of breastfeeding. It's too tiring. It takes too much out of me."

"Since when?"

"Since day one."

"You seem to be doing fine with it now."

"I'm not doing fine. I'm not doing fine with anything, House. Especially not breastfeeding." She picked up the kettle and poured a measured amount of boiling water into the bottle.

"So, you're just going to give up?"

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

"Because you're tired? That's a stupid reason to give up."

She looked at him sharply. "You're not the one breastfeeding."

"You've made it this far. Why give up now?"

"Because I'm _tired_ , House. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm not producing enough milk--"

"Oh, that's crap. You're producing plenty."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. She's content when she's been fed. That means she's getting more than enough."

Cuddy shook her head as she screwed the nipple onto the bottle.

"You can't just give up," he fired at her.

"Oh, what do you care?"

"Because you're giving up for the wrong reason."

"I need a correct reason for giving up breastfeeding?" Cuddy let out a bitter laugh as she picked the bottle up and shook it to mix up the formula.

"You need a valid reason. Being tired and worn out isn't valid."

"That's easy for you to say. Not your kid, remember?" she replied in a crisp tone.

"No, but she's your kid. You have to bond with her."

"I'm bonding with her just fine."

"No, you're not, Cuddy. You barely touch her. You barely smile at her. You said yourself you hate her."

Cuddy ignored him. She put the bottle on the counter to close the can of formula and in a burst of frustration, House strode into the kitchen. He made a swipe for the bottle, just missing it as Cuddy snatched it away.

"Give that to me," he demanded.

"No. Get out of my way, House."

" _Give_ it to me." He reached out and snatched her wrist.

She gasped in surpise and then twisted her hand in his grasp. He tightened his grip and grabbed the bottle with his other hand. Cuddy kept jerking her arm away; her grip on it was too tight for him to get a proper hold. He gritted his teeth and grunted, his shoes scuffing on the floor while he wrestled with Cuddy.

"Let go," she demanded between clenched teeth.

He ignored her. Being bigger and stronger, he managed to pry the bottle from her. He held it high in the air out of Cuddy's reach.

She made an angry grab for it and missed. "Give it back!"

"No. You go out there and breastfeed your kid."

"I don't have to do anything you say."

"If you want to bond with her, you'll listen to me."

In the living room, the baby started crying. House lifted his other hand and unscrewed the nipple while still holding the bottle in the air.

"Don't you dare," she hissed.

He dodged her a few times as he tried to lower the bottle in the sink--and as she made another lunge for it, the bottle got knocked out of his hand. It landed with a dull thunk to the sink. Formula slugged out and pooled around the drain.

"HOUSE!" Cuddy shrieked.

Cuddy tried grabbing the bottle again but House held her back with his elbow while he upturned it to empty the rest of the contents. He startled as a hand violently smacked his arm, then again, and again, Cuddy hitting him on the same spot angrily. He flinched away at each strike until the bottle was empty. He dropped it back to the sink with a loud clatter and he turned to Cuddy, seizing her wrists in his hands. "Stop it!"

"I hate you," she shot back.

"Yeah, well that's too bad. You need to pull yourself together. Stop it." She tried yanking away and he gripped her harder until her arms were locked. " _Stop it_."

Silence abruptly fell over the kitchen, giving way to Eva's cries. He drew in a deep breath, realising he was breathing heavily and that his heart was thudding hard in his chest. He released Cuddy slowly, cautious she was going to launch into another attack.

"Go feed your baby."

She let out a sharp, hitched breath.

" _Go_."

Cuddy shrank back at the volume of his voice, then moved quickly out of the kitchen. He watched her until she was out of sight and a moment later heard the baby's cries falter. Then silence. He let out a shaky breath and looked down. Formula was still pooled around the drain; he turned the water on and his eyes landed on the formula can. He grabbed it up, pried the lid off and dumped the entire contents into the sink. The powdered milk turned into instant liquid as it was washed away. He shut the water off once it was all gone, threw the tin in the trash and braced his hands against the counter.

House was a lot of things but physically violent towards women wasn't one of them. He'd been dangerously close to lashing out at Cuddy in frustration moments before. He'd never once in his life ever felt that way towards her before. Once he calmed down, he headed back to the living room; he was greeted with a dark look from Cuddy as she breastfed the baby.

"You'll thank me," he said.

"I already have, a thousand times, and you knock it back every time. Why should I be thankful to you now?"

"Look. If you don't want to bond with your kid, that's your decision. But as long as I'm around, I'm not going to enable you to do that."

"You wouldn't know the first thing about bonding, House. You, of all people, who avoids relationships and you're telling me about bonding?"

"I helped you have that kid. I'm not going to let you throw that away."

"You don't even care about this kid, House. So what does it matter?"

"It matters because that kid's safety matters. Why else do you think I've stuck around and put up with all your bullshit?"

"Postpartum depression isn't bullshit, House."

"Oh, so now you're admitting you have depression?"

"Yes," Cuddy snapped. "I'm admitting I have depression. I'm depressed. Is that what you want to hear?"

House fell silent. At first, he was stunned at what Cuddy had said. But in the next instance, all anger drained away from him, overtaken by an inexplicable sense of relief, like a weight had been lifted off. He let out a slow breath and hung his head. "Yes," he said, suddenly so tired his legs felt weak. "That's what I wanted to hear. For your sake, not mine."

Cuddy looked away. He limped across to the coffee table, pushing a few toys and a cloth diaper out of the way, and he sat down on the edge with a weary sigh. She was gazing off towards the window. He licked his lips and tried to work out how to put into words what he wanted to say. He didn't know how to ask Cuddy if she trusted him. He didn't know how to tell her that everything would be okay.

He dropped his eyes to the floor with another sigh.


	5. Leaking Like A Sieve But Made It To Land

"Not going to Cuddy's tonight?"

House looked up at Wilson standing in the doorway, startled. He scowled. "What're you still doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same question."

House glanced at his watch. It was just after 6.30pm. His team had long gone home; the conference room was dark, much like his office, save for the light spilling in from the hallway. He'd lost track of the time, though he was too tired to care. He sat forward at his desk and reached for his Vicodin.

"So, you're brooding in the dark," Wilson continued after a pause. "What's going on?"

"I'm not brooding."

"No, of course not. You're just doing something that strongly resembles it."

He popped the bottle open and tipped two pills out onto his palm. "Just thinking," he said after he swallowed them.

"About?"

He flashed Wilson an annoyed look. "You leaving."

"Sorry." Wilson gave an unapologetic shrug. "I never leave."

House sighed impatiently, though he didn't have the energy to argue with Wilson. He sat back and dropped a hand to his bad thigh and rubbed it. His leg had been bothering him all day, a persistent throb that refused to relent no matter how much he tried to walk the pain out or how much Vicodin he took.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do I look like I want to talk about it?"

"Yes, actually."

"Well, you're wrong."

"Why are you still here, then?"

Out in the corridor, a janitor pushed a cart stocked with cleaning equipment down the hall. The hospital was getting ready to close down for the night, not that hospitals ever really slept. That thought made House think about how tired he was and how little sleep he'd been getting lately. He found it impossible to sleep while Cuddy and Eva continually played on his mind.

He looked away. "Everything's changed."

"And that's why you're still here?"

"This is the only place left that hasn't."

"Hasn't what?"

"Changed."

Wilson paused. "Usually I can decipher your riddles, but you're going to have to help me out on this one."

House didn't say anything for a long few moments. He stared across the room. "You were right."

"About what?"

"Things changing."

He turned his eyes up to Wilson, who was peering back at him thoughtfully. "Contrary to what you think, House, change isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"It is when you don't want things to change."

"House, you were the one who agreed to help Cuddy get pregnant. Nobody forced you to do that. You can't offer to change something and then expect everything to stay the same."

House looked away again.

"Eva means something to you," Wilson realised.

House abruptly stood up. He grabbed his cane and reached down for his bag.

"So now you're going to run away?"

"Told you I don't want to talk about it."

"Running away isn't going to solve anything, House."

"I'm not running away. I'm leaving, seeing as you won't."

"To go where? Home, to brood some more?"

He stepped away from his desk, his coat now tucked under his arm, and started for the door.

"What about Cuddy? She needs you."

Halfway across the room, House reeled around sharply to face Wilson. "Exactly."

"House--"

"She admitted that she's depressed."

"And that's bad because...?" Wilson blinked, bewildered. "That's half the battle won if a person recognises they're depressed and need help."

"I can't be what she needs. I can't help her."

"House, what have you been doing for the last two and a half months? You've been there for her. She's only been able to reach the point of admitting she's depressed because of you."

He glanced towards the door with a longing to escape - not just from Wilson but everything. The fight he'd had with Cuddy over the baby formula kept running through his mind, as well as the other times when he'd felt out of control, Cuddy turning up unannounced at his apartment, Cuddy crying in her bathroom, watching her almost shake the baby, all the times he'd been at a loss for what to do while Cuddy broke down in tears.

"You can't just walk away from Cuddy now, House. You can't do that."

"No, I _can't_ ," he agreed angrily. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Everything's changed! This isn't the way things were supposed to go. None of this was supposed to matter!"

"And you want to bail because it does?"

House opened his mouth to argue but was too overridden with panic to get the words out. He looked down at the floor with a helpless sigh.

"Running away just because you're scared isn't going to solve anything," Wilson said.

He didn't want to hear any more. He continued towards the door, his stomach in knots and his leg throbbing with a renewed pain that made it feel like it was on fire.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

He shoved the door open and stepped out. He'd go home, he'd have a drink or several, he'd push Cuddy and Eva from his mind and hopefully forget about them for a while. But as he crossed the parking lot and reached his car, he began to doubt himself. He got in the car and gazed out the window for a few minutes. What was he going to do when he got home besides drink? Did he honestly think he could forget about Cuddy and Eva, no matter how much he tried?

He started the engine and pulled out into the drive, and when he reached the road he hit the indicator and turned in the direction of Cuddy's place.

* * *

The house was quiet when he let himself in. He peeked in the living room and with no sign of Cuddy, he walked down the hall. He checked Eva's room first; she was gurgling and cooing happily to herself while gazing up at the mobile of brightly coloured teddy bears hanging over her crib. Deciding to leave her be for the moment, he continued down the hall to Cuddy's room. He poked his head around the door and saw she was lying on the bed, facing the wall.

"You awake?"

She stirred. She was awake.

He hesitated, a big part of him wanting to back out of the room, out of the house, right out of Cuddy and Eva's lives. But instead, he opened the door wider and stepped in.

"The baby's awake," he said.

"I know."

"It's almost 7.30."

"I know."

He paused. He was quickly running out of things to say. "You eaten?"

"House, go away."

He frowned. "No."

"I mean it."

"So do I."

Cuddy slowly rolled to her back and looked at him. Not for the first time, House was struck by how fragile she appeared. "Why do you keep coming here?"

He froze, caught off-guard by her question.

"Why do you keep coming here, House?" she repeated when he failed to come up with a response.

"Because...." The confrontation he'd had with Wilson was more than enough for one night. He hadn't come here just to find himself confronted with more questions he couldn't -- wouldn't -- answer.

"What do you want from me?" Cuddy asked quietly.

He frowned again. "What kind of dumb question is that?"

"You expect me to believe you don't want something from me? That you're just doing this because you care? I've been nothing but an inconvenience to you. You hate people inconveniencing you, most of all me."

"Why does it matter?"

"Why does it _matter_?" Cuddy sat up, giving him an incredulous look. "You never wanted anything to do with this baby. You didn't even want anything to do with me. You barely spoke to me for the first few months after I got pregnant. And now you're here, almost every day. Why?"

"What's gotten into you?"

"Why does something have to have gotten into me? Just because I have questions? Questions I have the right to know the answers to? " Cuddy scooted towards the edge of the bed. "Do you think this is a joke? Coming around to my place every day, seeing how much of a mess my life is? Pointing out all my flaws and failures?"

"You're getting irrational."

"Oh, I'm irrational now, am I?" She stood up and House had to steel himself against wanting to step back from her. "And why do you assume I’m irrational? Because I'm depressed? Now I've admitted that I'm depressed, that gives you an excuse to blame how I feel on me being irrational?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?" he snapped.

Cuddy glared at him. "So, my feelings are invalid?"

"I never said that."

"You just said I'm irrational. If that's not invalidating how I feel, then I don't know what is."

"How you feel?" he exclaimed, feeling whiplashed at how sudden this was turning into an argument. "What do you mean, 'how you feel'? How you feel about _what_?"

"About you. About us."

He stared at her. "There is no 'us'."

"Then why do you keep coming here, House?"

"Because things change. Things happened that I didn't count on. You were emotionally neglecting your kid--"

"What the hell would you know about emotional neglect?"

"A lot more than you think."

"How, House? _How_? You're one of the most emotionally neglectful people I know."

Her words stung him in a way he couldn't explain. He swallowed hard. "Why do you think I hate my dad? You think I hate him because it's fun?"

"What's your dad got to do with it?" A sharp pause filled the room. All the anger on Cuddy's face suddenly drained away. "Oh God, House. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said--"

"Shut up."

"I didn't mean--"

"Sure you didn't."

"House--"

He turned away to storm out of the room but not without wanting to deliver a parting shot. He faced back to her. "If you want your kid to grow up hating you, emotionally neglecting it the way you are is the best way to go about it. You telling your kid you hate her? She'll turn that right back on you one day."

She gasped.

"You want your kid to hate you?"

Her face had fallen into a expression of utter devastation. She shook her head. "Of course I don't."

He turned to leave but again changed his mind. "Who else is here for you, Cuddy? Friends? Family? I don't see either of those around you anywhere. Because you have no real friends. And you're too proud to tell your family how much of a failure you think you are. But I'm here. And that means nothing to you."

"That's not true," she said in a small voice.

"Then why are you doubting me?"

"Because you're you."

"What happened to trusting me?"

Cuddy opened her mouth and formed a few silent vowels before she covered her face with her hands. "God, I don't know. I don't _know_." She let out a hitched breath. "I feel so confused. I feel like I don't know myself anymore. I feel like... I don't know what I feel anymore."

All the anger House felt began to slowly ebb away. Hearing Cuddy speak reminded him that this wasn't her fault. He staved off the desire to flee and took a hesitant step back towards her.

She wiped her eyes and raked her hair back. "I'm sorry."

"Stop that."

"I am."

"I don't care."

She crossed her arms over her middle and glanced up at him with a guilty expression. In the nursery, the baby was beginning to whine. House held Cuddy's gaze and he fought back an urge to reach out to her. "I better get Eva," she finally said. She took a step forward, then stopped. "Are you going to leave?"

He thought about her question for a moment. "I can stay if you want me to."

She nodded. She tightened her arms around her middle. "I'm sorry," she said again, softly.

He knew this time she wasn't apologising for her tears but for the fight they'd just had. He gave a small, remorseful nod in reply.

* * *

"Come on, kiddo," House said, lifting Eva out of the crib. "Mom's asleep. So we have to be really quiet."

A week had passed, a long, tense week that House was glad to see the end of when the weekend arrived. He was exhausted. His leg ached with a persistence that Vicodin only barely touched; his nights were spent sleeping restlessly while things churned over and over in his head.

The baby gurgled happily at him as he transferred her to the changing table. He stripped her diaper off and frowned at the red diaper rash forming on her bottom and around her groin. After he cleaned her, he smeared some zinc cream on the rash and fitted her with a fresh diaper. He'd performed the task of changing her so often now that he didn't really think about the mechanics of it. He picked her back up, flipped the light off and headed out to the kitchen.

"What time is it, Mr. Wolf?" he announced to Eva as he reached for the kettle. She stared at him, wide-eyed with interest. Her neck muscles were still a little weak, making her head bobble. He answered his own question, "It's dinner time!"

The animated tone of his voice made Eva break out into a big, gummy smile and House couldn't help smiling back at her. He saw movement in the doorway and turned to see Cuddy standing there, sleepy-eyed and messy-haired, a pillow line down the side of her face.

"I'll feed her," she said in a groggy voice.

"You sure?"

Cuddy nodded, yawning. He handed Eva over to her, turned the kettle off and went out to the living room. The baby sucked away noisily at her breast while he sat on the couch and surfed through the TV channels.

"Do you think I need to go on medication?"

House looked across at Cuddy in surprise. Time and time again, he'd debated with himself whether or not to broach the subject of medication with Cuddy. Each time he almost did, he changed his mind, dreading the potential argument that would possibly follow. He hadn't expected Cuddy would ever broach the subject herself.

"I don't think it would hurt."

She nodded and looked down at Eva. "I think I need to go on medication."

Relief flooded through him. "Okay. I can write you a scrip."

"What do you think I need?"

He'd already thought about the different medicinal options Cuddy had, ever since he'd spoken to Wilson about suspecting she had postpartum depression. "I could start you on sertraline. Fewer side effects, won't affect the baby through breast feeding. Give it a few weeks to see if it has any effect. And if it doesn't, we'll try something else."

She nodded again. "Okay," she replied quietly.

He studied her while she disengaged the baby from her breast, turning her around to let her feed from the other side. "What made you decide you need meds?"

"I'm sick of feeling like I'm struggling to breathe underwater." She looked back up at him. "I want to enjoy my baby. If anything, she deserves that."

"You deserve it, too, Cuddy."

She flashed him a small, grateful smile.

Eva decided she had enough and Cuddy sat her up to burp her. House snorted when she let out a loud belch. "Nice meal?"

The baby turned her head in the direction of his voice and made a content cooing sound, milk dribbling down the corners of her mouth.

"Thought so."

Cuddy wiped her mouth with the cloth diaper she had draped over her shoulder. She tucked her sweater back over her breasts and got up to put Eva down on the play mat.

"Get down on the floor and play with her," House said as Cuddy resumed her seat.

She shook her head. "I'm too tired."

"Playing with a baby doesn't take any energy. All you have to do is sit there and pull faces or make noises."

She shook her head again, curling up on the armchair.

House studied her with a mildly frustrated sigh. He glanced at the baby, then dropped his feet from where they were propped on the coffee table. "Come on," he said, holding a hand out to Cuddy when he was in front of her.

"You play with her. You're better at it than me."

"That's bullcrap. Anybody can play with a baby."

"No."

"You want to bond with her or not?"

"Some other time. Right now..."

"I'm getting sick of your excuses."

"It's not an excuse. I just don't feel like it."

"You never feel like it."

"I'm _tired_."

"Don't care." He grabbed her wrist and yanked her up.

"House!"

"Come _on_. Doesn't have to be for very long."

"I just said I'm too tired."

"So? That's what you signed up for. Complaining about it won't make it go away."

He led her over to the baby. Letting her go, he sat with a grunt beside Eva and stretched out on his side. She was half turned towards him, a toy clasped between her hands while she chewed on it.

"Lie down on the other side," he ordered Cuddy. With a heavy sigh, she reluctantly sat and drew her knees up to her chest. House gave her a look. "That's a very un-fun position to sit in."

"I'm not in the mood to be fun."

House rolled his eyes and looked down at Eva. "You hear that? Mommy's being a party pooper."

He reached for a bright yellow giraffe lying on the play mat and held it over the baby. Her eyes suddenly widened as though dazzled by the colour and she smiled up at it. House lowered the giraffe and tapped the end of Eva's nose. She jerked in mild fright and then shrieked in delight.

"So, what'll we call him?" he asked Eva. He turned the giraffe towards him and studied its face. "How about... hmm. What do you think?" He tapped the giraffe on her nose again and she let out another excited shriek. "That's an interesting name." He turned the giraffe back to him. "Hello... What did you say his name was again?" He bumped the giraffe on Eva's nose once more. Her legs and arms flailed enthusiastically. He heard a snort from Cuddy. He glanced up at her and saw she was smiling slightly.

He motioned impatiently for Cuddy to come closer. "Get over here."

"You're having fun on your own. You don't need me."

"Just get over here." He set the giraffe down and reached for another toy, the bright pink elephant that rattled when shaken. "Here, take this."

Cuddy reluctantly scooted closer and took the elephant and sat cross-legged next to Eva.

House picked the giraffe back up. "Who's that?" he asked Eva, pointing to Cuddy with the toy. The baby kicked her legs in the air. "That's right. It's Mommy. She's the person with the udders on her chest."

"House."

"Well, it's true. Talk to your kid."

"I don't know what to say to her."

"Make noises at her. Make faces, even. The only unconditional being in this world besides a pet is a baby because they've got no concept of hating you. Make the most of it while it lasts."

She gave him a look equal parts annoyed and guilty. Eva gurgled and as her fist came in contact with her mouth, she started sucking on it. "Don't tell me you're hungry again," Cuddy sighed.

"She's a growing kid," House replied. "Kids are facultative parasites. They can complete their life cycle independent of a host."

"She's not a parasite." Cuddy turned to Eva. "Don't listen to him. He's just a big meanie who likes nothing more than pick on other people."

"All part of the fun."

"For you, maybe."

"Well, who else matters but me? No one."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. She turned her gaze down to the baby, a blank look on her face as though she didn't know what to do with herself. She lifted the pink elephant and the baby's eyes widened again at the shock of colour. Cuddy shook the elephant, then drew it forward and beeped it against Eva's nose. The baby broke out into a big smile and made an excited noise. Cuddy did it again and again. House watched the whole time, observing the small smile slowly creeping onto Cuddy's face.

"You're beautiful," she said softly to Eva. She touched the elephant to her nose again. She set the elephant on Eva's chest so the baby could gaze up at it, which she did, her eyes wide with concentration. Cuddy lifted a hand to Eva's head and stroked it gently. She then pressed her pinkie into the baby's palm and the baby's little fingers grasped reflexively around it. Cuddy smiled again.

"You're a good mom, Cuddy," House said.

Cuddy looked up at him. He couldn't tell if her smile was sad or guilty. "No, I'm not."

"You have a happy baby. Be proud."

"I'm probably just going to screw her up."

"Of course you're going to screw her up. You're her mother."

"Thanks," she said dryly.

"Better to be screwed up by a good parent than be screwed up by a bad one. Trust me. I know."

"Is that why you agreed to help me get pregnant?"

"No. That was just a ploy to get you into bed."

She gave him a look. "House."

He shrugged a shoulder. "It doesn't matter why I agreed."

"It matters to me."

He shook the giraffe at Eva, who cooed at it. "Every kid has a right to know who their parents are. Nothing worse than being lied to."

"I wouldn't have lied to her if I'd gone with a donor."

"You did go with a donor. Just one you know instead of some faceless sperm in a cup."

"Does that mean you want Eva to know you're her father?"

House looked up at Cuddy. He didn't know how to answer her. "Play with your kid," he replied, handing the giraffe across to her. "Before she gets too tired and cranky."

"That's not an answer."

"Is this the part where I plead the Fifth?"

"You always plead the Fifth."

He swiped the pink elephant from Cuddy to continue playing with Eva. "In that case, I plead the Fifth."

* * *

"This is the starting dose," House said as he opened the package of Zoloft. "Give you fifty milligrams now, keep you on fifty for the week. If you start showing signs of improvement--"

"I know how these things work, House. I'm not an idiot."

"Just making conversation." He watched Cuddy's face as he popped a pill onto her palm. She stared down at it with an expression he couldn't quite decipher: resignation or possibly despair.

He'd wasted no time in getting the medication. The first thing he'd done when he got to work that morning was head straight to the pharmacy. It had been on his mind all day from that point on. He didn't know what he was going to arrive home to that afternoon, whether Cuddy would be glad to receive the medication or whether she'd have a change of heart. Or possibly indescribable, like she looked right now.

And then he'd wondered when on earth he'd started thinking of Cuddy's place as 'home'. That had ended up playing on his mind just as much for the rest of the day.

He reached down to his bad leg and tried to rub away a sudden stab of pain. Along with the thoughts constantly running in his mind, so had his leg been hurting. It made his whole body tense; it radiated through him in knots, right up to his shoulders where he felt the tension the most.

"I'll just go and get a glass of water," Cuddy said quietly. She stepped back, clutching the pill in her hand, and House watched her head out of the living room.

He sank to the armchair with a heavy sigh. Eva was asleep, the place was quiet albeit cluttered with mess, and House was positive this was the first moment during the day he'd managed to just be. Elbows resting on his knees, he ran his hands over his face and into his hair. It was one thing to treat someone with depression. It was another thing entirely to practically live with someone who had it.

The sound of glass smashing on in the kitchen startled him. He sat straighter. "Cuddy?" he called.

He listened for her reply and when nothing came, he got up to investigate. When he reached the kitchen, he was met with the sight of Cuddy standing in the middle of it, glass shattered around her bare feet and her hands pressed to her mouth.

"Everything okay?" he asked, noticing the distressed look on her face.

She frantically shook her head.

"What's wrong?"

"I dropped the glass," she whispered from behind her hands.

"Okay," he replied slowly. "No biggie. Just clean it up."

She shook her head again.

"Why not?"

"I'm such a failure."

"What?"

"I'm a _failure_. I'm a..."

He frowned in bewilderment. "It's just a glass, Cuddy."

"No."

He paused, uncertain. "Yes. It is."

"No. It's not. It's _not_. I'm a failure. I'm a bad mother. I can't do anything right."

"Because you dropped a glass on the floor?"

She covered her face with her hands.

"It's just a glass, Cuddy. So what?"

"No. It's everything. _Everything_. I can't... I'm a failure as a mother. I hate myself. I hate how unhappy I feel. I'm a failure." She let out a sob. "I couldn't even give birth properly."

House stared at her. How had she surmised all of that from dropping a single glass on the floor? "Don't be ridiculous."

"I can't help it. I can't."

"It's just a damn glass," he repeated firmly. "Get over it!"

She looked up at him, eyes red and face contorted in anguish. "It's got nothing to do with the glass, you asshole!" she shouted. "Don't you get it? Don't you get how I feel? I'm a failure. I've failed my child. I've failed myself. I've had to go on fucking antidepressants--"

"For God's sake, Cuddy--"

"I'm a failure."

"Stop saying that."

"I hate myself."

"Shut up, Cuddy. Where's the pill I gave you?"

"I don't--"

"Where is it?"

"On the floor somewhere. I dropped it. I don't know."

House watched with a feeling of complete helplessness and frustration as Cuddy crumpled into tears. He started into the kitchen towards her, his shoes crunching over the glass. He slapped his cane down on the counter and then grabbed Cuddy's arms.

"Come on," he ordered. "Stop it."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. You're not a failure. You're depressed. You're not a bad mother. You're none of those things."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not, Cuddy. You're _not_." He shook her, and shook her again even harder, until she looked up at him. "Who cares how you gave birth? You have a healthy kid."

"I can't even look after her properly."

"Of course you can."

"No," she shouted. "I can't. I have to rely on _you_ to help me."

"So what?"

"This isn't the way it's supposed to be."

"Nothing ever is," he snapped. "Life is never how we want it to be. You can't control everything."

"I wanted so badly to be a good mother--"

"Stop that bullshit. You _are_ a good mother. You're a great mother."

"House--"

"Just shut up."

"Please," she begged, grabbing onto his arms.

"Cuddy, shut up. Get a grip on yourself."

"I can't. I can't. I--"

"You have to. You can't just give up."

"I know that. I know. But--"

"There's no 'buts', Cuddy! Your kid needs you. _Our_ kid needs you."

Cuddy stared at him and he stared right back at her. He realised in the silence that followed, that his heart was hammering and his throat was tight with an ugly emotion that was threatening to spill over.

She sagged against him and pressed her face to his chest. She gripped onto him tight enough that he staggered back slightly against her weight and he grabbed hold of her to steady himself. He went to shove her back but as she let out another sob, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wrapped his arms around her instead. He held her stiffly at first, darting his eyes around the kitchen frantically while wracking his brain for some clue as to what to do or what to say. Cuddy's sobs turned close to uncontrollable and House was left with no choice but to hold her.

"Come on," he urged. "Stop it. Come on, Cuddy." He squeezed his arms around her and pressed his cheek to hers. He closed his eyes and clamped down on the feelings building up inside him. He focused on holding Cuddy tight and eventually she began to calm down, until she was leaning heavily against him, still and quiet.

"Forget the pill on the floor. I'll get you another one," he said as he began to pull back.

Cuddy gripped him tighter, her hands fisted into his shirt. "Stay with me."

"I'm not going anywhere. Just going to the living room."

"Please. Just stay with me."

"Cuddy..."

He looked down at her, her face raw and weary. His leg throbbed. His chest was tight with an ache that he knew would explode into something uncontrollable if he let it go. He drew in a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly before he brought Cuddy back against him. She slipped her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed to his chest, and he settled his chin on the crown of her head.

He wasn't sure how long he held her for but by the time she pulled away, Eva had woken up and started to cry.

* * *

"You know what I think?" House said to Eva. He lay beside her on the floor, his head propped up on his hand. "I think I'm ready to go to sleep. You ready to go to sleep yet?"

Eva batted at the toy zebra dangling over her with a closed fist and made a happy babbling sound.

"Thought not." He closed his eyes and yawned. Cuddy had long since retired to bed. After helping her clean up the broken glass in the kitchen, he'd given her another pill and watched her swallow it. Within half an hour, she'd complained of feeling woozy and nauseous, a common side effect during the first week or so of taking SSRIs, and left Eva with him once she finished feeding. And now, he himself was on the brink of collapsing with tiredness.

He opened his eyes again when he heard Eva squeal and watched her batting more at the toy. Each day, she was developing; her head control was improving, her arm-leg coordination was strengthening, she could roll onto her front and was beginning to learn how to hold her head and chest up like she was doing mini push-ups. She smiled and she made noises that resembled a laugh. Most of all, she was beginning to recognise familiar faces and voices. His was one of the most familiar faces to her, and the way she always responded to him was unlike anything he'd ever known.

She kicked her legs hard enough to cause herself to roll onto her side, her hand now stuffed in her mouth. She sucked on it contentedly. House reached for her. He shifted onto his back as he drew Eva up onto his chest, laying her on her stomach. She stared down at him, wide-eyed at the new perspective of the world.

"I look different from up there, huh?" he asked her, amused by the expression on her face. He puffed his cheeks out and blew a raspberry, which made her smile. He did it again and Eva squealed in delight. She kicked her legs and tried pushing herself up with her arms.

"You're going to do push-ups on me?" he asked her. "Let's see how many you can do. One... two... two and a half--"

He flinched as a sudden string of milky vomit oozed from her mouth and onto his shirt. The vomit did little to curb her enthusiasm; she kept wriggling energetically. "Now look what you've done." He craned his head up to look at the mess. It wasn't much – just a small dollop. "My favourite shirt, too."

Eva continued to wriggle while he reached across for the cloth diaper near the play mat. Just as he was wiping her mouth, he caught sight of Cuddy standing in the doorway.

He was instantly self-conscious; as tired as he was, he was enjoying his time alone with Eva but he wasn't used to letting anyone see what an effect she had on him. "You're up," he said to Cuddy, quickly sitting up with Eva now perched on his lap.

"Only to get a glass of water." Cuddy wiped a hand over her weary face. "I feel like crap. I knew antidepressants had side effects but I had no idea just how revolting they can make you feel."

"Everything gets worse before it gets better."

"Great," she sighed. "Want me to put Eva to bed?"

"I can do it."

She stepped into the room. "I'll do it." She added to Eva once she reached his side, her arms outstretched, "Come here. Mommy'll put you to bed."

House handed the baby over to her and resumed wiping the vomit off his shirt. He stood once he was done and stretched his back before moving out to the hallway to fetch his coat. It was past 11pm and he knew if he didn't start making tracks now, he'd be too tired to drive.

"Going home?" Cuddy asked when she came back into the hall.

He wrapped his scarf around his neck. "Yeah. Tired."

She nodded as she folded her arms across her chest. "Are you okay?" she added after a pause.

He picked his bag up. "I'm peachy."

"House..."

He gestured towards her bedroom. "Go back to bed."

As he went to turn towards the door, Cuddy said, "Did you really mean what you said?"

He looked back at her. "About what?"

"About Eva?"

He turned back to the door. "Get some sleep," he replied dismissively. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"House."

He stopped again and faced Cuddy once more.

"Stay with me? Just for tonight?"

He frowned in surprise. "What for?"

"I don't want to be alone."

He studied her for a moment. "Things don't need to be any more complicated than they already are."

"I'm not interested in complicated. I just don't want to be by myself."

House looked at the door again, debating what to do. Leaving would be for the best. For who, he wasn't sure. For himself. Probably for Cuddy, too. But even if he went home, he wouldn't really be escaping anything. He knew he'd end up lying in bed, wide awake in spite of fatigue, while his mind continued to race at a hundred miles an hour.

He set his bag back on the floor and shrugged out of his coat again. He walked towards the living room; he'd sleep on the couch. But he was stopped by Cuddy taking his hand. He was confused as to what she wanted until she began tentatively tugging him to follow her down the hall. He lingered by the door as Cuddy let him go and moved across to the bed. She climbed under the covers.

"Come here," she said quietly, patting the empty side of the mattress.

He ran his fingers over his chin uncertainly. He was slow to strip out of his shirt and jeans, wondering to himself the whole time if this was the right thing to do. He felt like he was revisiting everything between Cuddy and himself that he'd run away from as he joined her beneath the sheets.

Cuddy turned the lamp off and he listened to the sound of her breathing as he gazed up at the ceiling. The moonlight shining in from the window threw shadows across the room in bent angles. He turned his head to look at Cuddy through the darkness and found she was looking right back at him.

"Thank you for staying," she said softly.

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

"I mean it."

"I don't care."

He stiffened as she reached for him. She touched the side of his face with a gentleness he hadn't felt in a long time, feeling her fingers running through his hair and down over his jaw.

"Thought you didn't want complicated," he murmured.

"I don't."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does if you don't want complicated."

"Aren't things complicated enough as they already are?"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. Cuddy was right – things were more complicated than ever now. More complicated than sex without commitment. Much more complicated than a simple sperm donation.

Cuddy shifted close, her body warm and real against his. He reached a hand under the covers and settled it on her leg. She leaned in and House closed his eyes as her lips pressed against his in a soft kiss. The kiss lingered with a familiar tenderness that reminded him why he'd pushed her away all those months ago.

"Good night, House," she whispered when she pulled back.

He swallowed as she ran her hand over his cheek again before she moved back to her side of the bed. "Good night, Cuddy."


	6. Walk With Me Into The Night

Cuddy was still asleep when House awoke. The sun shone bright through the window and birds chirruped outside in the trees. He didn't feel rested; his sleep had been interrupted with restless dreams, leg pain and the constant awareness that Cuddy was by his side. She'd gotten up in the middle of the night and he'd listened to her shushing Eva as the baby cried. When she'd returned to the bed, he'd turned towards her and rubbed his aching leg while she sank back to sleep. For hours, he'd had a longing to touch her. He'd held back from wanting to shift in close and spoon up behind her.

Now that he was awake, the reality of being in her bed hit him. Nothing had happened, nothing beyond the small kiss they'd exchanged, but that had been more than enough. He needed time to time to think. Or maybe not to think.

He sat up and quietly got out of bed, a shiver running through his body as his feet hit the cold floor. He dressed and headed out of the room. After he pulled his coat on and picked up his bag, he stepped to the front door, but stopped just before he opened it. He looked back down the hall. Slowly, he turned and walked slowly to Eva's room.

He approached her crib. She was asleep on her back, her arms sprawled up on either side of her head. She was making quiet sucking sounds, her pursed lips working in the motion of feeding from Cuddy's breast. He studied the slope of her nose, the tufts of hair spiking up on her head, her long eyelashes and her small double chin. Her face was still too immature to determine who she was going to take after. The only thing that was distinguishable was her eyes – she had his eyes.

He reached into the crib and pulled the blanket up over her. She jerked her arm and turned her head and for a moment he thought she was going to wake up. The little snore she gave told him otherwise. He smiled faintly. Of all the complicated ways that everything had changed, Eva made things most complicated of all. He wanted to resent her for it, just like he wanted to resent Cuddy. He hated change. But he couldn't hate Eva. He couldn't even bring himself to resent her for the way she'd turned his life upside down. He stroked her cheek with his knuckles and gently caressed her head before he stepped back and left the room.

He stopped by the living room to scrawl a note and left it on the coffee table for Cuddy to read when she got up. He buttoned up his coat, shifted his bag onto his shoulder, and slipped out the door into the frosty spring morning.

 _Cuddy,_

 _Still want me to sign that affidavit?_

 _House._


End file.
